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Draco sauntered into the werkroom and struck a pose, arms akimbo and looking at the camera through lavender-rimmed sunglasses.

“Get ready, America! Draco—” she paused dramatically, taking off her sunglasses to reveal stunning silver eyes, “—has crossed the pond.”

She wore a bobbed platinum blonde wig that framed her face in a mass of curls with a mint-green origami dragon perched above an off-center part. A white fur stole draped over her bare shoulders, a sparkling mint-green sleeveless mini-dress with a lavender belt underneath. She had a slender figure as a queen, foregoing padding to show her naturally lithe shape and legs for days. Delicate patent-leather lavender pumps graced her feet.

Sticking out from the hem of her dress was the wand attached to her thigh with a holster which was charmed to make itself and the wand invisible to muggles. Similarly hidden was the Dark Mark on her left forearm, which had faded to an ashy grey after the war. A glamour charm luckily covered the rest of it — to muggles, anyway.

—Confessional—
“Hi, my name is Draco— I’m from London, England, and I’m 25 years old,” Draco told the camera. In boy garb, he styled his pale blond hair short and parted on the side. He wore a crisp grey button-down shirt and flashed a dazzling smile.

“Draco is the Latin word for dragon; it’s a constellation; and it’s one exquisite drag queen — me! My drag style is refined elegance. My goal in this competition is to sweep the judges off their feet with my perfectly charming demeanour.”
—

Polite applause came from four queens who were clustered around a pink worktable. Draco walked up to them.

“Werk!” A young queen with Asian features and a turquoise wig snapped her fingers above her head. “Are you British?”

“Yes,” Draco replied. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Aww, that’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to go to England! Oh wait, you call it the UK now, don’t you?”

“Er—”

“I’m Goldie Hanako,” she added, holding out her hand before Draco could answer. Draco took it and they shook hands so gently it felt more like a limp hand-holding.

“Paris Davenport,” a short, Black queen with big honey-blonde hair and sequined gold gown held out her hand and gave Draco an assessing look. She gave Draco’s hand a firm pump. “So, where do you perform in the UK? I had a chance to see a show at The Glory in London a couple years ago and it was amazing.”

“I don’t really have a performance spot,” Draco admitted.

“More of a social media queen, then?”

“Well—”

No answer was necessary, however, as another queen walked into the room at that moment.

“Move over, Hunties! Venus Flygirl is here to make you her prey!”

One of the other queens at the worktable let out an ear-piercing shriek. “VENUS!” She squealed, running up to her and grabbing her in a bear hug.

“Steve!” Venus squeezed back.

The rest of the queens seemed to have forgotten Draco as they gushed over the new girl, who was apparently a big name in the Los Angeles drag scene. Another queen might have felt slighted, but Draco was relieved to lose attention from the previous line of questioning.

—Flashback—

Draco walked into the sitting room in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, where his boyfriend was watching something on television. They had been dating for a few months before Harry had introduced him to the muggle concept of television shows. At first, he had thought the whole idea of a wizard watching “telly” terribly silly, something Harry did to make up for what he’d been denied as a child in a muggle home. Draco usually made a point of reading a book while he sat next to him on the sofa, feigning boredom as Harry watched people on the telly kneel on the floor in front of ovens and fret over the state of their Genoese cakes.

“What are you watching?” Draco asked as he snuggled into Harry’s side. He frowned at the screen. “This doesn’t look like your bakeoff programme.”

Harry wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulders and answered, “RuPaul’s Drag Race. It’s an American reality competition show about drag queens.”

Draco watched as one by one, drag queens strutted down a runway and showed off elaborate outfits. “So, it’s a fashion show, then?”

“They’re drag queens, Draco.”

“And that means…?”

Harry turned and gave him a quizzical look. Draco furrowed his eyebrows in response. “They really don’t have drag queens in the wizarding world, do they?” Harry asked, more to himself than to Draco.

“Obviously not, or I would have known about them, wouldn’t I?”

“And you’ve never seen a drag show when you’ve gone to a muggle gay bar?”

Draco glared at him. “What does that have to do with any—”

“They’re men, Draco.”

“WHAT?!” Draco’s head jerked back to the screen so fast that it was practically a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. The queens who had been taking turns strutting were now lined up along the front of the stage while people sitting on a panel criticized their outfits. One of them talked back to the panel in a deep baritone voice.

“How can those be men?” Draco asked bemusedly. “How can they look like women?”

“All muggle tricks.” Draco didn’t have to look at Harry to know he had a smug look on his face. Draco watched the rest of the show with rapt attention. Two of the queens were told to “lip sync” — which he soon learned meant that they pretended to sing a song performed by a woman — or apparently face certain death. Well, not death so much as one of them was kicked off the show at the end of the episode, as it turned out.

After watching the losing queen write something on a mirror with lipstick and cry at the camera while clutching a figurine in a long-clawed hand, Draco turned back to Harry. “Are there any more episodes of this?”

Two weeks later, Draco had seen every episode of every season of RuPaul’s Drag Race, RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars, and every corresponding episode of Untucked. When Harry came home from work and hung up his Auror robes, Draco was watching a makeup tutorial on Harry’s laptop and taking notes.

“Hello there, Sweetheart,” Harry greeted, pecking him on the cheek while Draco scribbled down a note about the functionality of lip liner. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“It’s amazing what they can do without magic,” Draco admitted. “There’s so much strategy involved. So much cunning — not just with creating the look, but in how they rise to a new challenge on the show in each episode.”

Harry grinned. “If someone would have told me a year ago that I’d not only be dating the Draco Malfoy, but that he’d so obsessed with a muggle art form, I’d have never believed it.”

Draco paused the video and turned to face Harry. “I can do this,” he said, “I need to do this.”

Harry smiled and shrugged. “Sure, why not? I bet you’d look absolutely hot as a drag queen. And I know you don’t mind wearing heels and a skirt,” he added, winking. They had already had some fun with this kink after Draco had discovered a few trunks of women’s clothes and accessories in the attic.

“Can you take me shopping in Soho tomorrow? There are some stores that sell makeup and pads and such that I’ll need. Also, I’ll need a muggle sewing machine. I need to know how to sew the muggle way. Do you suppose Granger knows how to use one?”

Harry looked baffled. “Sweetie, you know I work tomorrow. How about this weekend? We’ll make a day of it.” He gave Draco a gentle kiss on his lips by way of apology.

Draco pouted. “Can’t you take the day off? Time is of the essence if I’m going to submit my application video by the end of the month.”

“Wha-- the end of the month?" Harry gaped. "What application?!” 

Draco moved away from the desk to sit next to him on the sofa and took both Harry’s hands in his own. “Harry,” he started, “this is something I need to do. I’m going to be a drag queen, and I’m going to be on RuPaul’s Drag Race.”

Harry stared at him in shock, opening and closing his mouth a couple times while he processed this statement. Finally, he gave Draco a small smile and said, “Okay. Anything for my sweetie.”

Draco threw his arms around him and gave him a long, fiery kiss. When they finally pulled apart, Harry continued, “Promise me you won’t get too upset if you don’t get cast to be on the show? You’ll be competing against thousands of queens who have been doing this for years.”

“I promise, and I know,” Draco grinned, “That’s part of what makes this project so exciting.”

“It’s going to take a lot of work, too. You know I love you and support you one hundred percent,” he added quickly. “It’s just that learning how to be a queen and submitting an audition video in less than three weeks is going to take a lot of work.”

“Well, what else am I going to do with my time?” Draco shrugged, then gestured around at the sheets of parchment strewn all over the desk and floor, covered in copious notes. “I’m a professional drag queen now. Or, at least, I will be, as soon as I get the right supplies.”

Harry beamed. “You’re hired,” he said, and pulled Draco in for another kiss.

Draco felt exhilarated, finally having a direction he could feel passionately about. He spent the rest of the evening showing Harry what he had learned so far and demonstrating some of the lip syncs he had been practicing before Harry had come home.

—End Flashback—

By the time all the queens had arrived, there were fourteen in total. In addition to Goldie, Paris, and Venus, Draco learned that the other two queens who had been there when she arrived were Steve Donovan (a showgirl from Las Vegas who apparently didn’t use a fake drag name either) and Lorena Gucci, a fashion-obsessed queen from Puerto Rico.

There was also Ivana Mann, a fifty-something queen with a sarcastic sense of humor, Lady Cakes McMansion (possibly the largest person—let alone queen—Draco had ever met), a self-professed “drug culture superheroine” queen named Intoxia Madison, another plus-sized queen named Cindy Sanchez, Acacia Davenport (Draco practically had to plug her ears at the intense shrieking that happened when Paris found out her drag sister was joining her), a South Asian queen named Kali Sister who had a punk aesthetic, Queenie Q (Draco couldn’t remember much except that she was from Seattle), and a Texas-based pageant queen named Carmelita Corazon.

Suddenly, a door above the werkroom opened.

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul called out, descending down a set of stairs in a striped pink and white suit and matching striped fedora as the queens cheered.

“Gather ‘round, ladies!” The queens turned as a group to face RuPaul. “Welcome to RuPaul’s Drag Race! Hashtag: #DragRace. Get ready, because your lives are about to change forever!”

“Yeah!” several of the girls cheered.

“Now, your first mini challenge is going to be a time-honored tradition,” he explained. “You’ll each have a photo shoot with our photographer, Mike Ruiz,” Ru explained. The queens all clapped and cheered appreciatively.

“Good luck, and don’t fuck it up!”

—Confessional—

“I’m so excited — this is my first mini challenge on the show!” Draco gushed as the camera switched to footage of Draco stepping onto the photo set towards RuPaul and a man with salt-and-pepper hair who held a large camera. The set was designed to look like an overly decorated room full of Victorian furniture and framed pictures of queens from previous seasons on the walls.

—

“Welcome, Draco!” RuPaul greeted. “This is legendary photographer Mike Ruiz. He’s going to be taking your photos, but you’ll be the one calling the shots here.”

Draco raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“You’ll have to decide how and where you pose,” RuPaul explained. “Let’s do it! Choose your first position.”

Draco sat delicately on the edge of a fainting couch. In front of her, a tea set complete with a platter of chocolate cake and tea for two sat on a little tea table.

“Yesss, dear, show us the tea!” RuPaul called out as Draco sat on the couch and picked up a cup and saucer, daintily raising the cup with a pinky finger extended gracefully. Draco posed for several shots with the tea set, pretending to pour a cup, pretending to sip with lips puckered over the rim in a flirty pout. Mike Ruiz kept taking shot after shot and RuPaul shouted out encouragement.

“Wait a minute!” RuPaul interrupted. “Why, this tea table is set for two! We need another queen to join the party!”

Draco looked up, confused, until she saw a blonde, slender queen appear from around a door at the back of the set.

—Confessional—

“For the love of Ru, it’s Courtney Act!” Draco exclaimed, overcut by footage of Draco and Courtney squealing and embracing each other in a delicate hug borne of drag etiquette.

“Courtney Act was in the Top Three of Season Six,” Draco exclaimed. “I can’t believe I get to meet her in person! Though I hadn’t realized how much time has passed since Season Six. She looked much older than I’d expected.”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry snorted. “Now that was shady,” he whispered in Draco’s ear.

Draco feigned a look of innocence. “Me, shady?”

—

“Draco, I’ve invited Drag Race legends to pose with each of my young’uns,” RuPaul explained. “We’re going to see if you have what it takes to stand out among greatness.”

Draco smiled. “My, how utterly delightful!”

“Are you up for the task?” RuPaul asked. Draco nodded. “Excellent. Now, pose the house down!”

Draco tried a few positions with Courtney sitting together on the fainting couch, then standing pressed against each other. Draco started to get the impression that the other queen was getting restless with Draco’s ideas.

“Oh, do you want us to give a Spice Girls pose, maybe?” Courtney suggested. “You be Posh and I’ll be Baby Spice. Tell me what you want, what you really, really want!”

Draco blinked. She had no idea in the slightest what Courtney was talking about. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with them,” she responded a bit stiffly. “Is that an Australian group?”

The smile fell from Courtney’s face. “They’re British,” she deadpanned. “You’ve really never heard of them?”

Draco shrugged. “They must have been before my time.”

Courtney’s face twitched. “Before your time,” she repeated quietly. “And just how long have you been doing drag, dear?” she asked with a tone of false sweetness.

“As of today? Almost three months.” She had kept herself in full-time training ever since she began preparing for her audition, then doubled her efforts after she learned of her acceptance on the show.

Courtney raised her eyebrows. “Really, that long!” Draco frowned. “This must be quite a grand adventure for you,” Courtney continued. “Well, if you need help, I suppose I could offer a few suggestions for how we might approach this photo shoot.”

This muggle, Draco thought. She narrowed her eyes and fixed the other queen with a calculating look. Who was she to take over Draco’s photo shoot?! Sure, Draco was less experienced, but she knew that she needed to be the one in charge here if she wanted to stay in the competition.

But how to keep this queen in her place? Draco thought quickly and eyed the set around them. A thought occurred to her. It was childish and lowbrow, but so were a lot of other things she had witnessed in American muggle culture. Maybe it would work.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary," Draco replied. “In fact, I—I just had an idea. Miss Act, if you please, stand over here—” she gestured at a spot in front of the tea table. “—And face the camera.”

Courtney stood up and positioned herself as requested. “Go on and give a good mug while I position myself next to you,” Draco continued. “Whatever you do, keep your eyes on the camera.”

Courtney posed, looking directly at the camera and alternating between sultry expressions and unadulterated duckface. Behind her back, Draco picked up a handful of cake from the tea table. “You’re looking gorgeous! Keep it up!” Draco told her encouragingly.

Courtney was caught by complete surprise when Draco smashed the handful of cake onto her cheek. Mike Ruiz captured a shot of Courtney’s look of absolute cake-smeared horror as Draco gave the camera an evil grin.

—Confessional—

“I may be less experienced as a queen, but I know better than to let someone else take what is meant to be my moment, my thunder,” Draco explained, then smiled sweetly. “This task is about showing I can do something that will get people to remember who I am. I’m Draco—! And if there’s anything I know, it’s how to make a lasting impression.”

—

“AAAAGH!! What have you done??!!” Courtney screamed.

RuPaul gaped, apparently frozen in shock.

Courtney raised a hand to her face. “Did you get it in my wig? Aaaahh, it’s on my dress!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like they can’t be cleaned,” Draco reasoned.

“‘It’s not like they can’t be cleaned,’” Courtney repeated in disbelief bordering on disgust.

“Have your things sent to my room and I’ll clean them for you,” Draco told her, not seeing a big deal out of the situation. She had watched enough seasons of Drag Race to know that the photo shoot challenge often got messy.

“Why, you—” Courtney reached around Draco, picked up a small handful of cake and smashed it right in the middle of Draco’s face. “See how you like it!”

Draco sputtered, then laughed. “All right, bring it on!” She picked up another handful of cake, this time flinging it more specifically into Courtney’s blonde wig.

“FOOD FIGHT!!!” RuPaul shouted, seeming to have recovered from the sudden turn of events.

“That’s right, honey! A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips!” RuPaul called out encouragingly as Courtney smeared cake across Draco’s barely padded hip. Draco gave as good as she got. All the while, Mike kept taking shot after shot as the two queens each tried to get as much cake onto the other as possible until the cake ran out.

—Confessional—

“Well, that was unexpected,” Mike said. “Draco certainly knows how to use her body to play to the camera, and how to get a model to react a certain way,” he explained tactfully. “Although I’m not sure Courtney Act appreciated it.”

—

—Confessional—

“So, Draco wants to be memorable, does she?” Courtney seethed from under a pound of cake on her face. “Oh, I definitely won’t forget this.”

—

Draco limped back into the workroom, one heel broken from her savage cake fight. She located her suitcases and moved them to an empty station in front of a mirror. Several queens turned their heads and stared.

—Confessional—

“So Draco comes back from her photo shoot, covered in chocolate frosting, her wig half off, one eyelash completely gone,” Lady Cakes McMansion laughed. “Girl, she look like she got hit by a cakenado! Ohh, HURRICAKE!!!”

—

Steve gasped. “What the hell happened to you, Miss Thing?”

“Cake fight,” Draco answered nonchalantly.

“Girl, nobody else came back looking like that!” Venus retorted.

“There was cake and I wasn’t invited?!” Lady Cakes laughed.

Draco grinned. “You should have seen Courtney Act.”

Goldie hooted. “Oh, no Ma’am! She must be pissed!”

—Confessional—

“Everybody’s getting out of drag in the workroom, and Draco has to go take a shower just to wash all the cake off,” Acacia Davenport laughed. “So then later, in walks this tall, blond drink of water looking like he just stepped off a yacht or something, and I’m like, ‘Who the hell is this?’”

—

—Confessional—

“Draco looks cute as a boy!” Intoxia Madison exclaimed. “I wonder if he’d notice if I just snuck up behind him and licked his neck…”

—

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul called as he reentered the werkroom. “Now, we’ve taken a look at all of your photo shoots, and the winner of the mini challenge is...Lorena Gucci!”

The queens clapped politely as the camera flashed to a still image of Lorena posing on the same set as Draco, but standing in front of the back wall, back-to-back with Season One queen Nina Flowers. In the workroom, Lorena put her hands up to her face and gave a joyful little curtsy.

“Lorena, you’ve won a year’s supply of makeup from Salmon Buffet. That’s Salmon Buffet,” RuPaul repeated, making sure to emphasize the product placement for a makeup company Draco had never heard of before. The queens ooh’ed and ahh’ed appreciatively for Lorena’s good fortune.

“Now, for our main challenge, we have a special holiday treat in store for you. Oh, Pit Crew!” Ru called out in a singsong voice, and several muscular men clad only in red underpants and Santa hats marched into the werkroom, each carrying a large box wrapped in holiday paper.

“Each queen gets a special gift box from a Secret Santa. It’s like Christmas!” RuPaul exclaimed excitedly. “Your task for the first main challenge is to create a one-of-a-kind, haute couture runway look using the gifts from your Secret Santa. You may use your own wigs, shoes, and jewelry,” he added.

One by one, each queen was called forward and given one of the boxes. Once all boxes were distributed, RuPaul said, “There’s just one more thing—you’ve already met your Secret Santas at your photo shoot! Now, go on and see what you’ve got in your box!”

Queens squealed in excitement as they lifted box lids.

“Aaahh, this is gorgeous! I LOVE IT!!” Lady Cakes practically screamed as he lifted yards and yards of sequined royal blue fabric out of his box. “Latrice Royale, thank you!”

“I got Sasha Velour!” Steve informed the room delightedly, pulling out a papier-mache crown and a few yards of various types of fabric.

Draco lifted his box lid with a sense of dread. Inside was maybe half a yard of gauzy white fabric, a small spool of gold cord, a stuffed koala, and a small Australian flag the size of Draco’s palm. There was also a small note at the bottom:

Draco,

Best of luck to you on Drag Race -- you’re going to need it!

xoxo,

Courtney Act

“Oh, Ru's beard,” he breathed.

Intoxia Madison peered over his shoulder. “Draco, what did you get?” Draco showed him the practically empty box. “That’s it?? Girl. You got thrown under the bus.”

—Confessional—

Draco buried his face in one hand. “I knew the first challenge was going to be a sewing challenge. I was prepared for that,” he confessed as he lifted his head again. “I wasn’t expecting to fuck it up before getting to the sewing part.”

—

Later that day, Draco stood at a worktable, puzzling over the largesse of Courtney Act’s vengeance spread before him.

“Oh no, what’s that?”

Draco looked up to see Cindy Sanchez looking over at his table. She pointed at something on Draco’s small piece of white fabric. Draco looked where she was pointing and saw a big brown smudge about a third of the way from the edge of the fabric.

Draco’s lips thinned into a hard line. “Cake,” he muttered.

Cindy gave him a sympathetic look. “Maybe you can cut around it?”

—

RuPaul reentered the werkroom, descending the stairs with “Hello, Squirrelfriends!”

“Draco—” Draco looked up as RuPaul approached him. “What have we here?”

Draco held up the white fabric, which was now cut into a smaller rectangle. “I was thinking I could make this into something with a Greco-Roman motif,” he answered.

RuPaul gave him a blank stare. “O-okay.” He looked at the other items on the table. “And how do you plan to incorporate some of these other gifts?”

“Well, I plan to use the gold cord to tie laces from my shoes up to my knees.”

“And the koala?”

Draco glared at the stuffed animal, as if it were hiding the answers he needed. “I honestly have no idea.”

“I see you’ve made some modifications to the flag,” RuPaul commented.

Draco picked up a tiny, postage-stamp-sized Union Jack that he had cut out of the Australian flag. “I kept the relevant part.”

“Indeed!” RuPaul laughed. “Listen, I have to tell you that I’m not seeing where you’re going with this yet.”

“Neither do I, Ru!” Draco confessed in exasperation.

RuPaul looked around thoughtfully. “Courtney Act is a queen who can turn even a tiny bit of fabric into an outfit,” he commented. “You’re both fishy queens. Are you planning to serve us some body-oddy-oddy?”

Draco smiled. “I think there’s no doubt about that.”

“Well, just keep in mind that we’re expecting to see something couture,” he replied. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a fierce queen. I’ll leave you to it.” And with that, RuPaul walked over to Venus Flygirl and began asking him questions about the fabric on his dress form.

—

“Hi, Draco,” Goldie greeted as he walked up to Draco, who was focused on the stuffed koala in front of him. “Have you decided what you’re gonna do with that koala bear?”

“No idea,” he answered. He looked at Goldie thoughtfully. “If it were you, what would you do?”

Goldie picked up the toy and examined it. “Hmm,” he said, “I don’t know, maybe you could take it apart and try to use the stuffing for something?”

Draco frowned thoughtfully. Dismembering an animal wasn’t anything he had in mind when he wanted to be on RuPaul’s Drag Race, real animal or no. He was grateful that none of this would make its way back to the wizarding world. How would the Daily Prophet spin a story about him ritualistically slaying a child’s toy in front of innocent muggles? For that matter —

“Do you think America really wants to see me slaughter a cute little animal on national television?”

Goldie laughed and patted Draco on the shoulder. “Good luck, girl. You better work.”

He walked away, and Draco studied the koala.

Draco Malfoy was in a state of ongoing metamorphosis in his life. Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy was still reviled back in England. Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy had been unable to get a job in the wizarding world after his sentence of house arrest ended following the war. Soon after a chance encounter with Harry Potter, the two started dating and fell in love, and Draco graduated from Unemployed Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy to Unemployed Live-In Boyfriend Draco Malfoy.

In the last few months he had metamorphosed into Theoretical Drag Queen Draco Malfoy. At least, it was theoretical while Draco still practiced in the privacy of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for an audience of Harry, a couple house elves, and Dean Thomas’ muggle sister who had been willing to help him prepare his Drag Race audition video.

Drag Queen Draco Malfoy now had the opportunity to completely shed those former identities like layers of a snake's skin and reinvent himself (or herself) for a new audience who knew nothing about Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Drag Queen Draco Malfoy was lovely and refined and elegant (albeit not above a cake fight, apparently). He wasn’t about to fuck that up by doing anything that might be construed as violent — even to a stupid stuffed animal.

—

“Hey Lorena,” Carmelita sidled up next to the other queen and peered at the hem she was pinning before looking around the room. “Who do you think’s gonna get sent home first?”

Lorena looked around the room, too. “I think Blondie’s in trouble,” he said, nodding his head in Draco’s direction. Draco sat at his worktable, still glaring at the stuffed koala in front of him. The koala stared back at him with vapid eyes.

Carmelita giggled. “Do you think she’s trying to set that bear on fire with her mind?” They weren’t speaking loudly, but it was loud enough for Draco to look up and glance in their direction. Carmelita and Lorena quickly looked back down at Lorena’s sewing.

“I don’t know, girl,” Lorena answered. “Somebody’s gotta go home first. Might as well be her.”

—

The time finally came for the queens to get into drag and line up for their runway presentations. Draco took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped onto the stage.

She beamed at the panel of judges as she glided down the runway, arms stretched gracefully out to either side like a dancer. Her dress was a panel of lightweight white fabric with a small gold chain clasping at both shoulders and wrapping around the neck like a halter top, pooling in front to create a draping neckline. A gold belt cinched it at the waist. The skirt hung down to mid-thigh. Her blonde wig was swept into a curly updo à la grecque, a thin strip of white fabric wrapped around her head to imitate a Greco-Roman statue. On her feet, she wore gold stiletto sandals with gold cords that wrapped back and forth up her legs to tie at the knees. A gold armband in the shape of a snake hugged her upper arm.

—Confessional—

“I am positively floating down the runway, and I am determined to convince the judges of what I can do with just a little fabric,” Draco told the camera. “My look is a Greco-Roman-style chiton with a halter neckline, and I know I am showing my naturally exquisite body in its best light. My outfit makes me look like a goddess in the front...and just a bit naughty in the back,” he added with a sly grin.

—

As she reached the end of the runway, she cocked a hand to her hip and spun around. Her backside was completely nude save for the chain at the nape of her neck and the belt at her waist. Below the waist she had glued the small British flag to her left cheek. Draco turned her head over her shoulder to wink at the judges before continuing her runway walk.

“Cheeky!” Rupaul exclaimed.

“That’s one hell of a tuck,” special guest judge Reese Witherspoon commented. “How in the world did she hide that so well?”

“She’s claimed her ass for the queen of England!” Ross Matthews joked.

Special guest judge Kumail Nanjiani quipped, “The English really will colonize anything, won’t they?”

“Hey, if you liked it, then you shoulda put a flag on it!” Michelle Visage cackled.

—

After each queen had graced the runway, they all formed a long line across the front of the stage.

“When I call your name, please step forward,” RuPaul instructed. “Intoxia Madison,” Intoxia stepped forward. “Paris Davenport,” Paris stepped forward. One by one, the others followed: Ivana Mann, Acacia Davenport, Kali Sister, Steve Donovan, Cindy Sanchez, Lorena Gucci.

“All of you are safe,” RuPaul told them, “None of you are the worst — but none of you are the best, either. Try harder next time. Now, leave the stage.” Each of the safe queens exited in single file to the Untucked lounge.

The judges turned their attention to the six remaining queens, who represented the top three and bottom three for the challenge. Draco quickly looked at the others from the corner of her eye. Goldie and Lady Cakes had both managed to turn out stunning garments, and the judges appropriately praised their looks. The other queens’ looks weren’t impressive to Draco’s eye at all, however. Maybe, despite her worries over not having enough fabric and not knowing what to do with that blasted koala, Draco had made it to the other top three slot after all.

“Draco—! RuPaul addressed. Tell us about your outfit.”

“Well,” she began. “This is my take on a Doric chiton, which is what women in ancient Greece would have worn instead of a toga. But I’ve made it a bit more couture with the halter strap and the, erm…”

“The lack of a backside?” RuPaul suggested helpfully.

“Why, yes, now that you mention it,” she replied.

“It’s not enough just to look fishy and flash your ass on the runway,” Michelle lectured, wagging her finger at Draco. “You’ve got a great body, but this is Season __! We expect more from you.”

Then again, maybe Draco hadn’t made it to the top three for the week after all.

“Can you tell us what’s going on with the British flag?” Reese Witherspoon asked.

“It’s important to represent one’s country well,” Draco explained. “I’ve heard some Americans have what they call a tramp stamp, so I’ve got myself a little slag flag to show my national pride.” The judges chuckled. “What’s not to like?” she added.

“Bitch, you’re wearing a rectangle! That’s not an outfit,” Michelle retorted.

“But rectangles are so important to our society,” Draco said in her defense. “People spend so much of their days looking at rectangles — on their phones, on their computers, on their tellys. And now they’re going to watch us on a rectangle, so this is my way of honoring the cycle by putting the rectangle on me.” She flashed the judges her best smile for good measure.

Draco was completely embracing muggle culture. This was part of the newly metamorphosed Drag Queen Draco Malfoy. If muggles loved their rectangles enough to spend so much time looking at them, surely they could love looking at Draco, too, right? Maybe if she believed it hard enough, it would be true.

RuPaul laughed. The other queens on the runway turned to give her an odd stare.

—

“Thank you, ladies, I think we’ve heard enough,” RuPaul told the queens on the stage. “While you untuck backstage, the judges and I will deliberate.”

The queens marched backstage and joined the others. Draco grabbed a cocktail and propped herself onto a stool, careful not to muss her slag flag.

“Draco, you gotta be the queen of bullshit!” Lady Cakes laughed.

“Why, what happened?” Paris asked. Draco sighed.

“They read her for wearing a rectangle,” Lady Cakes explained, then laughed again. “So then Draco starts going on about how people look at rectangles every day or something and that’s why she made her outfit that way.”

“I’d like to think I did well with what I had available,” Draco sniffed, adjusting the skirt of her chiton.

The other queens quietly looked away and sipped their drinks.

“Honestly, I think it’s ridiculous that we should have to sew our own costumes,” Carmelita Corazon complained. She had also been harshly criticized for her look. “I have tens of thousands of dollars in costumes that I brought with me and I can’t even show them off! I have people who make my outfits so I don’t have to!”

Apparently, Carmelita had over-relied on accessories to make up for her terrible sewing skills. She had managed to turn pink silk taffeta into a long tube with loose threads hanging from the bottom hem. It was so tight around her legs that she had trouble walking in it.

“Have you never seen the show before, bitch?” Venus laughed.

“There’s a sewing challenge in the first episode, every season,” Lady Cakes added.

“Right, even I knew that,” Draco chimed in. “And I’ve had the least experience of any of you. When I found out I was going to be on the show, I drilled myself every day,” she said. “Lip sync drills—” she clapped her hands — “makeup drills—” another clap— “sewing drills—”

“How on earth do you do a sewing drill?” Kali Sister laughed.

“I would give myself one hour to make an outfit,” Draco explained. “Sometimes my boyfriend would bring home some random material for me to work with. I dare say it taught me a fair bit about sewing,” she added.

“Too bad it couldn’t help you make a better outfit for this challenge!” Intoxia shot back. Several queens laughed.

“Well! Anyway,” Draco continued, wrinkling her nose, “It seems I have a bit more studying to do. Do excuse me while I run through my Lady Goggle lyrics a few more times.” With that, she got up and wandered over to a vanity, where she picked up a glowing rectangle and extendable ears (or whatever the muggles called them) and tuned out the other queens.

The lounge dissolved into giggles.

“Did she really just say ‘Lady Goggle’?” Steve asked. More laughter ensued before they switched to asking Queenie Q about the critiques she had received for her outfit.

Queenie Q was a queen famous for her online videos, but proved herself to be paralyzed with stage fright on Drag Race. Her runway look was mostly a giant silicone breastplate with corset and panties, topped with a cape sloppily constructed from the fabric she had been given. It did not bode well for her. Not that Draco really cared. Draco had a song to memorize.

—

“Now, just between us girls, what do you think? Let’s start with Draco—,” RuPaul began as the judges conferred.

“I think she’s gorgeous, but that piece of fabric was not an outfit,” Michelle declared.

“In her defense, she didn’t get as much from her Secret Santa as some of the other queens,” Ru explained.

“But any other queen could have taken what she got and turned it into something more complicated,” Michelle argued. “This was a sewing challenge, and she barely even sewed!”

“She may not have had as much to work with as some of the other queens, but she backed it up with a funny little social commentary, and I like that about her,” Ross defended.

“I actually liked the ‘slag flag’ concept,” Kumail added. “Did she have a great outfit? No, but she can think creatively to try and bullshit her way past it, and that has to count for something, right?”

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Michelle responded. “I mean, she put herself in this position because she didn’t get along with another queen. I’m worried that that’s indicative of a bigger problem with her ability to get along well with others, and she’s going to need that ability if she wants to get very far in this competition.”

“Very well,” RuPaul considered. “Now, how about Lady Cakes McMansion?”

—

After what felt like an eternity of sitting around the Untucked lounge listening to queens argue about each other’s outfits, they were all called back to the main stage. Draco resumed her place at the front of the stage with the other top and bottom queens of the week. She applauded politely when Goldie Hanako was announced as the winner of the sewing challenge. Lady Cakes McMansion and Venus Flygirl were both safe.

Only Draco, Queenie Q, and Carmelita Corazon remained -- the clear bottom three of the week.

“Draco—,” RuPaul began, “Your comments tonight on the runway were full-bodied, but your geometric couture lacks...dimension. I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.”

—Confessional—

“Ru’s pants!” Draco huffed. “I didn’t spend twelve hours in a flying metal tube just to go home on the first episode! I am determined to survive this lip sync.”

—

Draco pursed her lips and nodded, mentally reviewing the lyrics for the lip sync number while RuPaul explained to both Queenie and Carmelita why their outfits were both horrible. Both queens held their breath while RuPaul milked the moment for as much dramatic tension as possible.

“Queenie Q, I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination. Carmelita Corazon, you are safe.”

Carmelita almost sobbed with relief before bowing and walking back to join the other queens. Queenie Q looked like she might be sick.

“Draco—! Queenie Q!” RuPaul addressed them. “Ladies, this is your last chance — to impress me and save yourself from elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync...for your life!”

Draco nodded and placed her hands on her hips, arching her back to the side for the beginning of the song. Lip sync drills, she reminded herself. She had trained for this.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Draco mouthed these first words with a soft, wistful expression on her face as she straightened her back.

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

As the song picked up for the next two lines, she quick-stepped a few paces to the right and back again. She spun in place to face the judges for the next part.

I want your ugly
I want your disease

She fixed the judges with an intense gaze and patented Malfoy sneer. This song called up memories of all those years at Hogwarts, years of want and hate mixed so deeply together it made her lip curl just to think about them. Could she identify with this song? Maybe.

I want your everything
As long as it's free
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love)

She reached forward with her hand, as if to pull herself along an invisible rope closer to the judges.

I want your horror
I want your design
‘Cause you're a criminal
As long as you're mine
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love-uuhh)

Draco fell backwards into a death drop. From across the stage, she saw Queenie rip off her wig in a frenzy of passion. For a fleeting second, she wondered whether she should maybe remove her wig at some point, too, until she saw RuPaul and Michelle narrow their eyes at Queenie in disappointment. That settled that question — well, that and the fact that she had surreptitiously used a semi-permanent sticking charm when no one had been looking. That wig wasn’t going anywhere without a countercharm.

I want your love and
I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
(Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!)
I want your love and
All your lover's revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

Draco had already gotten back up and began striding to the back of the runway.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

She threw her hands up over her head and launched herself forward, landing on her hands and pushing back up into a forward flip. What happened next may have to be chalked up to a combination of stress, determination, lack of sleep, and accidental magic.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Draco’s launch into a forward flip took her a bit higher into the air than she had expected. She flipped once, then realized she had enough momentum and flipped a second time, spinning in a little ball until she landed on her feet and slid into the splits.

Draco vaguely registered the gasps and cries from the judges in front of her — as well as a few queens behind her — as several people raised their hands and shouted, “WERK!” RuPaul herself had dropped her jaw and bugged out her eyes in shock. Draco herself was in something of a state of shock, and stayed in the splits with her arms out on either side for a few beats, catching her breath, before remembering that she still had more song to lip sync.

I want your love and
I want your revenge
I want your love
I don't wanna be friends

Moving out of the splits, she crawled toward the front of the stage on her hands and knees, fixing the judges a heated gaze. She reached one hand out in front of her, undulating her rib cage until her entire body appeared to writhe sensually.

—Confessional—

“Draco is giving you Chun Li, she is literally flying through the air like Sonic the Hedgehog and rolling around on the floor doing some kind of sexy slithering dance,” Intoxia commented. “And I see Queenie just prancing around, patting her titties and pointing at the judges. Step it up, girl!”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Draco guffawed. She leaned in to whisper into Harry’s ear, “I am definitely getting ‘Sexy Slytherin’ on a T-shirt!”

—

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
I don't wanna be friends
(Caught in a bad romance)
I don't wanna be friends

By this point, Draco’s eyes had shut tightly and she silently screamed the lyrics as the muggle singer belted them out. She hit a tightly clenched fist to her heart, her entire body trembling.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)
Want your bad romance!

Draco raised her hands to her face and appeared to claw at her eyes. She swiped them down her face, dragging her fingertips through her eye makeup until they smeared down her cheeks.

You and me could write a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
I want your love and
All your lover's revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

By this point, she was up on her knees. She gracefully sank backward with one arm covering her eyes until her back hit the stage. She was going to emote these lyrics for all they were worth.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)

After some more writhing around on the stage floor, she gracefully rose up to her feet and resumed the pose she had begun the song on.

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Finally the song ended, and Draco kept her pose while working to catch her breath.

“Ladies, I’ve made my decision,” RuPaul declared, pausing for dramatic effect. “Draco—! Chanté, you stay.”

Draco let out a long sigh of relief. RuPaul turned to address Queenie Q, who sashayed away with a bitter huff.

—Confessional—

“This wasn’t my time to go,” Queenie Q cried. “I know my look wasn’t that great, but I’m so much prettier and I have so much more I wanted to show the judges! Oh well, look for me on YouTube and subscribe to my channel!”

—

“Condragulations, ladies!” RuPaul told the thirteen remaining queens. “Now, remember: if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell can you love anyone else? Can I get an ‘Amen’?!”

“AMEN!” they all shouted.

“Let the music play!”

Still a bit shaky but immensely relieved, Draco joined the other queens in dancing on the runway to one of RuPaul’s latest singles (now available on iTunes).

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience cheered. “Well done,” Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered into her ear, “Now, I really want to take you home and get some revenge.”

Draco grinned. She had survived the first episode. She could only wonder what reactions she would get from future episodes.

—

Sneak Peek for Chapter 2:

The queens team up for a battle of ‘80s and ‘90s movie heroines in a pole-dancing-themed Rusical! On the runway, we get to see their “Red Carpet Realness” looks.

“In this challenge, we are each portraying famous women from the 1990s, and I’m assigned the part of Cher, ” Draco explained. “She’s a rich teenage girl with charm and cunning and I can get behind that. And then I find out that she’s a blonde...who wears yellow plaid. Yellow plaid, really? On a blonde?!”

Stay tuned for the next episode!

Chapter Text

—Before the Viewing Party—

Seven-year-old Teddy Lupin twirled around Draco’s “drag room” at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place while Draco transfigured longer, thicker eyelashes at the vanity.

“Whoa-whoa whoaaaaa, caught in a bad romance!” Teddy sang, whipping metamorphed long, turquoise hair over his shoulder.

News of Draco’s appearance on Drag Race had seemingly taken the British wizarding world by storm. While Draco and Harry had quietly portkeyed back to Hollywood to attend the first episode of Draco’s season at a Drag Race premier viewing party, someone from the Daily Prophet had apparently figured out how to watch the episode online. The next morning’s edition of the paper subsequently had a write-up about Draco’s role in the episode on Page 2, featuring an animated photo of her now-infamous airborne double flip in the lip sync.

The paper had followed the episode initially due to Draco’s reputation as an ex-Death Eater and, more recently, the Malfoys’ very public court case before the Wizengamot. But after the story about the first episode was published, the wizarding public was swift to react. The next day’s paper had featured an unusually long Letters to the Editor section full of opinions ranging from angry screeds about Draco’s accidental use of magic in front of muggles to enthusiastic support for a pureblood (and, well, former blood-purist bigot) embracing muggle culture.

The worst comment, by far, suggested that Draco’s attempt at Grecian couture made her look like the world’s worst-dressed house elf. Oh, the shade of it all.

What with the sudden surge of attention in the press, a viewing party for the second episode was soon advertised at The Bent Unicorn, wizarding London’s hottest (and only) gay pub. The owner had procured a way to stream muggle video onto a large viewscreen without the tendency for muggle technology to short out from too much exposure to magic. Naturally, Draco had been hired to appear as the guest of honor and perform a lip sync after the viewing of the episode.

So here Draco was, getting herself back into drag — this time for a magical audience. And Teddy — Harry's godson and Draco's little cousin Teddy, who was way too young for the gay nightlife, was still very much excited about drag. Draco guessed it had something to do with being a metamorphmagus and finding a potential outlet for his natural gifts. In any case, Draco was talked into letting the boy keep him company while he got ready for the show. Draco liked Teddy, but he hadn’t anticipated how much watching this would entail.

“Draco! Watch me! Look, I can death drop! Draco! Are you watching?” Teddy flopped backwards onto the floor. “Did you see it?”

“That’s brilliant,” Draco absently replied as she worked on transfiguring her lips to a luscious, pink pout. “Keep practicing.”

Teddy jumped up and approached Draco, looking in the mirror. Now that Draco could get herself into drag away from a muggle audience, she had more charms and transfigurations at her disposal. What took a muggle queen hours to achieve with makeup, she could now accomplish in roughly half an hour, face beat for the gods.

Teddy, on the other hand, only had to look at Draco’s painted face in order to copy it in a matter of seconds, which he did at this moment. It was both endearingly precocious and bloody annoying.

“How do I look?” Teddy asked excitedly.

“Like a drag queen,” Draco responded. 

Teddy beamed. “Enough to go to the drag race party?”

“In ten years.”

Teddy’s face fell. “Awww! But I’ll be OLD by then!” He clasped his hands together and got down on his knees. “Please? Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?”

Draco considered his little cousin. “Why would you want to go, anyway? It’s just going to be a bunch of grown-ups sitting around watching the episode together. You and I can do that tomorrow when it’s available on Harry’s laptop.”

Teddy furrowed his brows in confusion. “You mean you’re not going to be in the show tonight?”

“It’s a viewing party. We filmed the episode last summer.”

“Whaaat?!”

“Don’t you remember how I was gone for several weeks last summer? That’s when we filmed all the episodes.”

“Then why did it take them so long? I mean, I was just seven and a quarter then. I’m practically eight now. I could have grown old and died, waiting for this!” He pressed the back of his wrist against his forehead and fell back into another death drop. The Black family's legacy of melodrama had not skipped a generation in Teddy.

Draco chuckled to himself and shrugged. “Muggles need more time to tell their story.” It was as good an explanation as he could think up. After witnessing how they filmed everyone on set, Draco was still amazed at the amount of work that had to go into cutting hours and hours of footage into less than an hour for the first episode. That didn’t take into consideration all the fanciful sounds that had been added to the dialog, either.

Teddy pouted. 

“Chin up,” Draco said, “We’ll watch the episode together tomorrow. Then you and I can plan a performance that you can be in, too.”

Teddy’s eyes lit up. “Really?? Brilliant!” He punched his fist in the air.

“Now, help zip me into this dress?”

Teddy jumped up and started tugging the zipper in the back of Draco’s gown. “Wow, this is really tight,” he commented. “Have you gotten fat?”

“It’s supposed to be tight. Now watch your mouth or I might change my mind.”

—Beginning Episode 2—

The episode began just after Queenie Q sashayed away. The queens reentered the werkroom and saw the message Queenie Q had written on the mirror in lipstick.

“Ohh, Queenie!” Paris Davenport cried.

“‘Goodbye and good luck,’” Goldie Hanako read aloud, “‘And stop resting on bitch face!’ –Ha ha, that must be her catchphrase,” she laughed. 

“Aww, I’m so sorry to see her go!” Carmelita Corazon whined. She picked up a spray bottle and rag and handed them to Draco. “It’s all your fault she’s gone, so you clean it up,” she said, gesturing toward the message. 

Draco sighed. “Goodbye, Queenie Q,” she said as she began cleaning, wiping until the words became a blurry pink smear and deciding it was good enough. “That’s one queen down, twelve more to go!”

“But there’s thirteen of us still here.” Steve Donovan looked confused.

Lady Cakes McMansion laughed. “Girl, she means twelve more to beat before she wins the crown.” A few queens laughed as they began shedding wigs and false eyelashes.  

“Draco, we need to talk about that killer lip sync! How do you feel?” Goldie asked as she pulled off her heels and threw them across the room.

Draco scoffed. “I can’t recommend being in the bottom,” she said. “Especially not in the first week! I was half ready to start singing ‘Ru Save the Queen’ if I thought it could have kept me from going home.”

“I’m not going to lie; I didn’t think you had it in you,” Acacia Davenport commented. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I imagine there’s a lot about me that might surprise you, then.”

—

Eventually, everyone was out of drag, the cameras turned off, and the queens returned to their hotel. Draco entered his room that night to find a bag with Courtney Act’s cake-smeared wig and dress lying on the bed. He cast a few cleaning charms until the items were back to mint condition, then conjured a bouquet of yellow roses in a crystal vase. He wrote a quick apology note on the hotel stationery and carried it with the flowers and the bag down to the front desk to have them delivered. 

Why had Draco reacted the way she did with Courtney Act? He had been raised with better manners than that. No, it wasn’t a question of whether Draco knew any better. It was more accurate to say that Draco’s better judgment shut itself off as soon as someone bruised his pride. Impulse control had never been his strong suit.

And when that precious pride had been bruised by a muggle — well, for all Draco had come to respect the technological advancements and artistry accomplished by those without magic, old prejudices were hard to snuff out completely. 

He’d been shocked. He really did respect muggles, of course. He just hadn’t been prepared for the reality of a real, in-the-flesh muggle treating her so condescendingly. Treating her like she wasn’t better than all of them combined.

It rankled. To think that the Draco Malfoy, pureblood descendant of a long line of proud pureblood wizards, had been treated with anything less than the utmost respect —

Well, let’s be honest. The Malfoy name hadn’t garnered that much respect since before the war. And there was the other matter that Draco preferred not to think about too often; he couldn’t claim to be part of that family anymore. But he still hadn’t been prepared for a muggle who barely knew her to make her feel so inconsequential.

And so, Draco had started slinging cake like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum. He had to admit it wasn’t a very dignified look. And an even worse first impression, especially considering how the act had come to bite her in the arse during the sewing challenge. No, he had to credit the muggle queen for winning that round.

As long as she was going to live among muggles, compete against muggles, and – if she didn’t crucio herself in the foot too badly – make a career out of entertaining muggles, she was going to have to get over that internal little outraged pureblood voice and tell it to shut the hell up.

Returning back to the hotel room, Draco collapsed on his bed and fell asleep immediately.

—

The next morning, Draco’s alarm woke him up at five. It was a miserable hour to be up, but it would give him a little time to get some exercise before he had to be on set for the next episode. He quickly got dressed, grabbed his broom, thought about the destination as it had been described in the travel book, and disapparated.

He appeared in San Adra, a small wizarding island off the coast of Los Angeles. The muggles considered it part of Channel Islands National Park — uninhabited and incapable of supporting life. For that reason it was protected from muggle real estate developers and any other muggle in a boat looking for a quiet island to explore. Of course, that was by design. A few charms around the island’s coastline helped discourage anyone from approaching or even getting close enough to see anything interesting on the island.

In reality, it boasted a thriving community roughly the size of Hogsmeade. Beautiful homes with lush gardens dotted the beaches, with upscale cafes and boutiques along the sole road that circled the island in a great big ring. In the middle of the isle was the San Adra Quidditch Park — a large, grassy field with two quidditch pitches and an obstacle course for the more daring flyers. Witches and wizards who weren’t as flight-inclined tended to use the grounds for picnics and walking their crups. The photos in Draco’s travel guide hadn’t done it justice. 

Mounting his broom, Draco sighed in relief as he soared high up above the palm trees and raced a lap around the pitch. He slowed down and admired the view, taking in a big gulp of misty Pacific wind as he gazed down at the ocean vista. After being in the confined, smog-filled heat of Hollywood in summer, the coastal air was refreshing.

He flew around for a few more minutes before he saw a witch flying directly towards him. 

“Good morning, Draco!” she called out in a singsong voice. She stopped right in front of him.

“Morning,” Draco answered politely, forced to a stop. He recognized her as one of the crew assistants on the show.

“I haven’t had a chance to properly introduce myself on set,” she said, “I’m Heather Villareal. I’m with the Los Angeles Auror Department,” she explained, giving him a warm smile. Draco noticed that she was wearing muggle jeans and a dark blue polo shirt with “LAAD” embroidered in gold above an image of two wands crossed under two palm trees. 

“Nice to meet you,” Draco said cautiously. 

“Mind if I fly with you for a bit?”

“Of course not,” he replied. He minded quite a bit, actually, but knew better than to tell her that.

“Nice weather for flying this morning, huh?” she commented as they both steered their brooms around another curve in the pitch.

Draco shrugged.

“I used to play quidditch in school, too,” she informed him. “Chaser for Wampus House. You know, we actually have a wampus cat here on the island. It comes out at night. Sometimes we see it roaming around the park in the early hours.”

“How interesting,” Draco commented blandly. He would have to be careful the next time he came out here first thing in the morning. He didn’t feel particularly keen on the idea of becoming wampus food.

“I must say, when I found out I was assigned to follow Draco Malfoy’s progress on a muggle reality show, I was a little disappointed.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. He hadn’t been aware that he was being followed, but the news didn’t come as a surprise. “I’m sure I hate to be so disappointing.”

The Auror laughed, tilting her head back. “Oh, sorry, don’t take offense! I usually prefer chasing criminals, solving cases that save lives – you know, the stuff most people join the Aurors to do. Watching out to make sure you don’t violate the statute of secrecy isn’t exactly on the same par, you know?” The wind whipped a long lock of dark hair from her ponytail over her shoulder. She shook her head, sending it backwards and swishing in the other direction.

“I guess not.”

“Former Death Eater or no, you’ve been keeping your nose clean since your trial. I didn’t have any reason to expect this case to get interesting at all. Imagine my surprise when you went into a flying spin on just your second day of shooting!”

Draco stopped his broom and turned to face her. “That was an accident.”

“Hmm,” she uttered by way of reply, looking at the ocean instead of him. 

“I was nervous,” he explained. “I— may have gotten a little carried away,” he admitted, “but I certainly didn’t mean to jump quite so high. I meant to jump and do a single flip. The second flip just...happened.”

Heather turned her face to look at him again. She considered him for a moment before answering, “You know, I’m inclined to believe you.” 

Draco subtly let out a breath of relief.

“Still, you’re lucky that it was something within the realm of possibility for no-mags,” she added. “They may think you have unusually talented gymnastic abilities, but they don’t think what you did was impossible.” She gave him a broad smile. “Let’s just consider this a warning and hope you can continue to stay in the competition without any more magic! It would be a shame to have to destroy evidence of one of your stunning performances and obliviate everyone, wouldn’t it?”

Draco had to agree with that, but… “Within the pre-specified parameters, of course,” he added.

“What’s that?”

“MACUSA has granted me permission to appear on the show as long as I don’t perform obvious magic in front of a muggle audience. And I’ve been allowed to use magic in my hotel room or in the case of a tangible threat.”

“Oh, that,” Villareal waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, I suppose as long as they don’t know you’re using magic to keep your wig on and your junk tucked, it’s not a crime. It might be cheating, in my opinion—”

Draco frowned.

“—But technically legal. And I wouldn’t worry about any ‘tangible threats’ around here. It’s not like you don’t have a team of Aurors following your every move, right?” She smiled at him. It was a wide, toothy, predatory smile that made Draco feel like the wampus cat had found him after all.

“Right,” Draco answered. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to the hotel and ready for today’s challenge.” With that, he swept back down to the ground below and apparated back.

—

An hour later, the queens walked into the werkroom in boy garb, most of them in jeans and T-shirts or tank tops that advertised drag queen personas. Draco wore a wide-sleeved white button-down shirt with ruffled cuffs, tucked into a fitted pale blue waistcoat and light grey trousers. He had tied a grey silk ascot around his neck, fastened in place with a sapphire tie pin.

The queens chitchatted amongst themselves for a few minutes before they were interrupted suddenly by the large television screen hanging on one wall. RuPaul’s voice was heard calling out an odd phrase that made no sense to Draco’s ears as they all turned to the screen for the message.

“Welcome, Racers!” RuPaul greeted them cheerfully through the screen, wearing a black top with a low neckline and frizzy honey-blonde hair. “Can you dance like a she-ro, or do you just like going down on a pole?” The queens shot each other puzzled looks. “Are you a pretty woman, or just pretty in pink? This week, we’re going to find out which queens are a real sister act, and which of you are just plain clueless. ” With that, RuPaul cackled, and the screen went to black.

“Hello, hello, hello!” They turned and faced RuPaul as he descended the stairs into the workroom, this time wearing a two-piece suit in a lobster-print fabric.

“For today’s mini challenge,” RuPaul began, “I want to know which of you are the best dancers at RuPaul’s Drag Race. It is time to bust out some of your best moves in a good old-fashioned dance-off...country style!” He told them excitedly. “Now, you have fifteen minutes to get into your best quick-drag country realness. And, GO!”

The queens dashed to their stations and began tearing through outfits and makeup. Draco wasn’t sure exactly what constituted “country realness,” so he started slathering on eye makeup and lipstick while watching the other queens for ideas. Eventually she decided that she had a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt that would work if she tied the shirt ends together at her midriff. 

Of course, having arrived dressed in such a multitude of buttons, a tie, and tie pin meant that Draco took longer to undress, and was barely able to throw a long blonde wig on her head before the time ran out.

“All right, DJ,” RuPaul announced after they all returned back to the empty space on one side of the workroom. “Hit it!”

The queens each had a turn dancing to one of RuPaul’s latest singles (now available on iTunes, of course). It had a twangy quality completely alien to anything Draco had ever heard before. She cheered the others as they boot-scooted and performed all manner of moves that may or may not have had anything to do with country dancing.

“All right, Draco—, it’s your turn!”

Draco leaped over the bale of hay that each queen had danced in front of. She began shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she hopped up and down.

“Okay...all right, ” Ru commented.

“This is English country dance,” Draco explained. But then she stopped hopping and leaned forward, twerking for all she was worth. Her wig flew off and landed in an undignified heap.

“Just like in Pride and Prejudice,” RuPaul quipped. “Why, Miss Bennet! Whatever will Mr. Darcy think?!”

“Mr. Darcy can eat my arse,” Draco sneered, spinning in a quick circle before smacking her hand on her bottom for emphasis, and danced off to the side when RuPaul summoned Lady Cakes for her turn.

Lady Cakes promptly flopped on the floor and flailed her limbs. 

—Confessional—

“I’m no dancer, so my strategy is just to lay myself down and start speaking in tongues like I’m possessed,” Lady Cakes explained. “I’m giving you Country Church Revival Realness, Sugha!”

—

“Hoedown!” RuPaul exclaimed. “I repeat: we have a ho down!”

After each of the queens had had a turn, the music finally stopped.

“All right, ladies,” RuPaul said, “Loretta Lynn would be so proud. But two of you really danced the barn down: Venus Flygirl—” Venus shimmied her shoulders prettily as the others hooted and applauded— “and Paris Davenport.” Paris preened as she received her own applause.

“Condragulations, ladies! You’ve each won a $1500 gift card for custom jewels by Disco Jazzle!” Paris and Venus beamed in delight.

“Now, for this week’s maxi challenge, you will be starring in “Sheroes: The Rusical!” The queens cheered. “You will be split into two teams. Venus and Paris, you won the mini challenge, so you are the team leaders. Come forward and choose which queens will be on your team.” Venus and Paris stepped to the front of the group, standing next to RuPaul.

“Venus, you go first.”

Venus took a moment to consider the queens lined up in a row. “I’m going to go with...Kali Sister!” Kali preened to polite applause from the others and bounced over to stand next to Venus.

“I’m gonna choose my Davenport sister, Acacia,” Paris announced. Acacia shimmied in delight and sauntered over to Paris.

“Carmelita,” Venus chose.

“Goldie,” said Paris.

“Steve,” said Venus.

“Cindy,” Paris decided.

“Lady Cakes,” announced Venus.

“Lorena,” Paris chose.

Venus thought for a moment. “Intoxia,” she decided.

That left Draco and Ivana Mann as the last two queens. The Rusical episodes were typically challenges that required a lot of dancing and physicality. Surely Draco’s lip sync performance had proven her abilities to the others. And considering that she was half Ivana’s age, that had to count for something, right?

Draco beamed at Paris for good measure.

“Ivana, come here, girl,” Paris said. Ivana smiled and patted Draco on the shoulder before joining Paris’ team.

“That leaves Draco with Venus,” RuPaul concluded. 

“Ta,” Draco pronounced as she sauntered over to the six other queens on Venus’ team.

—Confessional—

“Am I disappointed that I was picked last?” Draco shrugged. “It’s not about what I know, but who I know, and I’m still relatively an unknown around these queens,” he admitted. “And I still have some work to do before they get to know me and just what I’m capable of.”

—

That was a partial truth. Draco was also suspecting that he may have to adjust his attitude in order to form a working relationship with the other queens, but he was far from ready to admit that yet.

—Confessional—

“I think Draco got picked last because she’s the least experienced of any queen here,” Ivana explained to the camera. “I may be older, but I have more performance experience than all of these bitches combined, and they know that. Aside from some acrobatics, there’s no telling what Draco has to offer.”

—

“Now, our Rusical will be divided into two acts,” RuPaul told them. “Team Paris will portray iconic sheroes of films from the 1980s. Team Venus, you will portray iconic sheroes from the ‘90s.” Several queens snapped excitedly. Draco went along with it. 

“You will be coached by legendary singer, actor, dancer, and choreographer Todric Hall.”

“Yaaaaasss!” This announcement garnered even more excitement. Draco cheered along with the other queens, even though he had no idea what that meant.

“Gentlemen, start your engines,” RuPaul continued, “And may the best woman win!”

—

“Here we go, four queens of color, and only one non-white part,” Carmelita muttered as he looked at the script with dismay. 

“I don’t care,” Kali Sister replied, “I wanna be Tank Girl.”

“Okay, Kali is Tank Girl,” Venus nodded. “Lady Cakes, Carmelita, do either of you want dibs on Deloris Van Cartier?”

“Is that Whoopi Goldberg’s character in Sister Act?” Lady Cakes asked. “You really going for the race card, huh?” He laughed.

Venus shrugged. “You can have it if you want it.”

“Sure, I will turn it out.” Lady Cakes snapped for emphasis.

“I’d rather be Trinity, anyway,” Carmelita said. “She’s sexy and she has fewer lines.”

—Confessional—

“Really, Queen?” Intoxia raised an eyebrow at the camera. “Carmelita is...fishy and effeminate. We’re talking about Trinity from The Matrix here. Carmelita ain’t butch or athletic enough to pull off Carrie Anne Moss.”

—

“Okay, I’m taking Leeloo,” Venus continued. “Now, we have Rose Dawson from Titanic, Dr. Ellie Sattler from Jurassic Park, and Cher from Clueless. Draco, why don’t you take Rose Dawson since you can speak with a British accent?” Draco looked up from the script, hoping his confusion wasn’t too evident on his face.

“What does that matter?” Intoxia asked. “We’re lip syncing the lines anyway. I want to be Rose.”

By this point, Draco found the script page that showed a photo of the character in question. Draco was ready to be a team player. Draco was up for any challenge.

Yet somehow he found himself saying, “I don’t really do red hair.” 

Venus huffed in irritation. “Well, then how about playing a blonde spoiled rich bitch? Do you think that’s in your wheelhouse?” 

Draco blinked. “I...suppose I can give that a try.”

“Great, you’re Cher. Intoxia, you take Rose. Steve, how do you feel about playing Ellie Sattler from Jurassic Park ?” Steve nodded. “Fantastic. Now let’s start going over our lines.”

Draco flipped to the page with a photo of Cher and frowned.

—Confessional—

“In this challenge, we are each portraying famous women from the 1990s, and I’m assigned the part of Cher,” Draco explained. “She’s a rich teenage girl with charm and cunning and I can get behind that. And then I find out that she’s a blonde...who wears yellow plaid. Yellow plaid, really? On a blonde?!” 

He shook his head. “Americans, your culture is wrong and you are to be pitied. There, someone had to say it.”

—

That afternoon, the Team Venus queens walked onto the main stage in boy clothes and high heels to learn their choreography.

“Now, how many of you have a dance background?” Todric Hall asked the queens. Draco and Venus raised their hands.

The choreographer pointed at Draco. “Ballroom, ballet, and English Set,” he responded. Venus said she knew ballet and hip-hop, which lit up Todric’s eyes.

“Fantastic! Let’s see what you can do. Now, follow these steps.”

Todric demonstrated a series of moves to each queen and then had them run through the choreography altogether.

—Confessional—

Venus sighed and buried his face in his hand. “Well, this is a real a shitshow,” he told the camera. “Lady Cakes is fighting gravity real hard, but I can tell she trying. But Intoxia and Steve both have terminal cases of White Girl Dancing Syndrome. And it must be contagious, because Kali seems to be catching it, too.”

—

“OW, Bitch!” Carmelita yelped after Kali accidentally sank a stiletto heel onto his toes.

“OhmygodI’msorry!” Kali sputtered. 

—Confessional—

“Damn, we’re only into the second week and already, the bitches are coming for each other!” Carmelita made a face. “I’m not so sure Kali didn’t step on my toes on purpose. If she does it again, I think my foot’s gonna accidentally come in contact with her shin.”

—

“All right, ladies,” Todric got their attention after another run-through. Lady Cakes was sitting on the stage, breathing hard and fanning herself with her hand. Steve looked on the verge of tears. Venus was the sole queen who still looked confident and unfettered by the practice, the others displaying a spectrum of frustration, annoyance, and exhaustion.

“Let’s move on to the next part of the choreography,” Todric continued, “The pole-dancing solo numbers.” He gestured towards a pole by the back of the stage.

The queens’ jaws all dropped.

—Confessional—

“Michelle’s tits! What do they expect us to do with that?!” Draco cried.

—

—Confessional—

Venus shook his head in resignation. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse,” he said, “we go and get this kind of curveball. Everyone knows the team captain is the one who goes home if the group doesn’t pull its shit together. If we end up in the bottom, these bitches better watch out.”

—

—Confessional—

Lady Cakes looked heavenward. “Come for me, Jesus!” He laughed. “Everyone knows the big girls just gonna struggle through these physical challenges. I’m worried enough about this pole crashing down on me that it’s hard to process the moves they’re telling me to do.”

—

One by one, the queens were tutored in the art of pole dancing and took turns practicing their lip sync solos along with the pole choreography. Once Draco got past the initial weirdness of the concept, the multitasking came easier after a few practice runs.

“Draco, you’re getting the choreography, but you look a little stiff,” Todric told him. “Just be sure to put some stank on it.”

“And what precisely does that mean to you?”

“Serve us some attitude.”

“Attitude. Got it,” Draco nodded.

After what felt like an eternity in rehearsal, the queens hobbled back towards the werkroom on sore feet. They entered the room to see a flurry of action as two queens on Team Paris fussed over a gold bikini.

“Girl, you need to fix that bottom seam, ‘cuz that meaty tuck of yours makes you look like you’re wearing a diaper!” Cindy Sanchez laughed.

“No need to get jealous just ‘cuz I got cast as Princess Leia!” Acacia shot back.

“Well, look who’s back,” Ivana said loudly, cutting off Cindy, who looked ready to fire back at Acacia. “How did rehearsal go, girls?” 

“Swimmingly,” Draco answered confidently. Her teammates turned to him in surprise. “I’d be worried if I were you.” Draco smirked. 

A few minutes later, Team Paris went to their own rehearsal, and Team Venus collapsed into chairs and took off their heels, rubbing sore feet. 

Lady Cakes groaned and tapped at his watch. “My Fitbit says it’s time for me to die.” He cradled his right wrist in his left hand and closed his eyes. 

“No dying until after the challenge!” Venus barked.

—

“Draco,” Venus approached him as he was trying on his yellow plaid outfit to make adjustments. “I was wondering if we could go over some of your Cher characterizations.”

“All right,” Draco said. 

“Let’s hear you say, ‘As if.’” 

“As if,” Draco replied flatly. 

“Show me more outrage. ‘As if!’”

“As if!”

“As IF!!”

“AS IF!!!” Draco cried, dropping his jaw in a look of shock, hands firmly on hips.

“Better,” Venus nodded seriously.

“Do you want me to help you run through your lines?” Draco offered. 

“No time,” Venus replied. “Come on, ladies, let’s all do one last run-through before we go on stage!” 

Several groans filled the air as the queens gathered together and rehearsed their choreography again. 

After Steve screwed up the same cue for the tenth time, he sat down heavily on a stool and whined pitifully. “I just feel so stupid,” he confessed, starting to cry. “I’ll never get this choreography!” Suddenly, he was enveloped by five queens, each wrapping an arm around him.  

Draco watched as the others hurried to comfort the forlorn queen. He had never been a part of any group that would have shown that kind of support, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

— 

All too soon, it was time for their performance on the main stage in front of the judges. Team Venus began their group choreography, dancing around each other in a circle and lip syncing to a song that made no sense to Draco. She only remembered her own lines and other queens’ lines when they served as her cues.

Steve as Ellie Sattler was dressed in a sloppy button-down shirt and jeans, her hair in a messy blonde bun. She lifted two toy wingless dragons up in the air and lip synced, “Dinosaurs eat man, woman inherits the earth!”

That was Draco’s cue to shrug at the audience in her yellow plaid suit and whip her long, sandy-blonde hair around. “I’m like totally buggin’!”

“It’s been swell, but the swelling’s gone down,” Kali lip synced as Tank Girl. She wore combat boots and denim overalls over a red bra with a derby hat over blonde braids.

“Paint me like one of your French girls!” Intoxia lip synced, and launched into her pole dancing solo. It looked like a struggle, as she was wearing a tight ankle-length dress and a large, floppy hat. 

“As IF!” Draco as Cher cried with her hands on her hips, just as she had practiced with Venus. She continued to lip sync as she sauntered over to the pole for her solo. “She is like a total Monet. She looks fine from a distance, but up close she’s a real mess,” Draco curled her lip as she mouthed the words.

“Sometimes you have to show a little skin,” Draco lip synced with a flirtatious grin. She twirled one leg in a knee-high white sock around the pole before spinning and swinging herself upside down into the splits, her yellow plaid miniskirt falling to reveal yellow plaid knickers. “This reminds guys of being naked. And then they think of sex!” 

“Forgive them, Lord,” Lady Cakes lip synced. She was wearing a nun’s habit combined with a black catsuit, launching herself around the pole and landing in the splits. “This is better than sex!” 

—Confessional—

“Lord! Oh, forgive me,” Lady Cakes cried. “I am so gonna burn in hell for this.” He cackled.

—

Venus Flygirl as Leeloo wore a bright orange wig and a costume that looked like it was made out of white elastic bands. She lip synced a long line of gibberish as she spun around the pole gracefully, her lips not matching the words by a long shot. 

—Confessional—

“I’m not sure what I was thinking, taking on this part,” Venus muttered. “It’s one thing to just say a long line of bullshit, but it’s another thing to have to remember when someone else says it! I thought I’d only have to say ‘Multipass’!”

—

“MULTIPASS!” Venus lip synced, wide-eyed, holding up a badge. The relief on her face was palpable as her solo ended.

Carmelita wore a black latex catsuit and jacket with short, slicked-back black hair. “You’ve been down there, and I know that’s where you want to be,” she lip synced. “There must be a glitch in the matrix!”

She had been given the hardest stunts in the pole-dancing segment, and had questionable ability to pull off some of the maneuvers. Carmelita was a very feminine pageant queen, more accustomed to posing the house down than performing athletic dance numbers.  

After each pole solo, the queens resumed dancing around each other in a circle and struck a final pose, half of them out of breath. 

—Confessional—

“Good God, I’m glad that’s over,” Lady Cakes sighed and mopped his brow. “This challenge just about killed me.”

—

After both teams performed, the queens changed into their runway looks. The theme was “Red Carpet Realness.” Draco proudly stepped down the runway in a peplum jacket and pencil skirt. She was confident that she understood the challenge better than the other queens, who were oddly dressed in sequined and beaded gowns that had nothing to do with carpet.  

“Red for filth,” purred special guest judge Ya Kid K. 

—Confessional—

“I have to confess, there is still so much I have yet to understand about American fashion trends,” Draco told the camera, “So I was a bit surprised at the idea of this red carpet challenge. I could possibly be the least judgmental person you’ll ever meet—”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Several people in the pub guffawed. Harry quirked an eyebrow and smirked at Draco. 

“I said I ‘could possibly.’ Anything could be possible in the right circumstances,” Draco sniffed, “Clarification is key.”

— 

—Confessional—

“—So who am I to judge what’s á la mode here in the States?” Draco continued. “For me, this was a journey of discovery, learning how to work with a new material, though luckily the pile on this wool rug was thin enough that it wasn’t much heavier than your average cloaking wool. And now, I feel absolutely divine in my red carpet look tonight!”

— 

Draco felt lucky to discover that old Persian rug in the attic at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and in the right color, to boot. Once again, his Black ancestors had come through for him.

The peplum jacket was fastened with a single button at the waist, flaring out at the hips to give a more feminine shape. From neck to waist she showed a deep vee of pale skin, foregoing a blouse underneath. Once again, she went without padding to show off her slender silhouette. The collar stood high on her neck and flared out around the base of her head. A chestnut wig — that went better than her usual white blonde with the beige, brown, and pumpkin tones in the arabesque pattern of the red carpet — was styled into short starlet curls that swept over to the right side of her head and framed her ear. An oversized pillbox hat in the same carpet material sat cocked to the left side of her head, decorated with an even larger elaborate carpet bow and a pheasant feather jutting upwards to the ceiling. Large gold and diamond earrings, choker, and cocktail rings added sparkle. Her feet stamped down the runway in pointy-toed crimson velvet stilettos.

“She’s not just dressed for the red carpet, she’s wearing the red carpet!” Michelle exclaimed.

“I own fifty-one percent of this carpet,” RuPaul drawled as Draco turned to walk back upstage.

— 

“Welcome, ladies,” RuPaul began, once all the queens were lined up on the stage. "I’ve made some decisions. Team Paris...Condragulations, you are the winning team.” Paris, Acacia, Ivana, Cindy, Goldie, and Lorena all sighed in relief while Team Venus applauded in polite disappointment.  

“But one of you in particular really...possessed us. Ivana Mann, for your portrayal of Sigourney Weaver in Ghostbusters, you are the winner of this week’s maxi challenge.” Ivana’s jaw dropped. She beamed and nodded her head in gratitude. 

—Confessional—

“I won the challenge!” Ivana smiled at the camera. “All these bitches underestimated me because I’m the oldest, but who’s laughing now? Age before beauty, girls.” She winked.

—

“You have won a set of custom eyewear by Madame LeSpecs, along with a $2,000 gift card for Nails by Floyd.” RuPaul informed her. Ivana clapped in delight.

“Team Paris, you are safe. You may leave the stage.” The safe queens walked away, leaving Team Venus looking nervously toward the judges.

“Team Venus, I’m sorry, my dears, but all of you are up for elimination.”

—At the Viewing Party—

Cries of frustration filled the room at the Bent Unicorn. Draco looked around the pub, surprised to see it so full. She recognized several faces from Hogwarts, most of whom she never would have guessed would come out to support her. It must have been due to the hype created by The Daily Prophet, she reasoned.

—

After a commercial break, it was time for the judges’ critiques. One by one, the judges picked apart each queen’s performance and red carpet look. As the team leader, Venus was judged harshly for some of the other queens’ lackluster performances, supposedly due to her casting decisions, which Draco thought was a bit much. Her dancing had been on point, but her lip sync had failed.

“I chose the part of Leeloo from The Fifth Element because she shows a lot of body, and I thought I would only have to say ‘Multipass!’ once or twice. But then I got the script, and it’s like she’s speaking a kind of made-up language, and I just thought, ‘Fuck,’” Venus explained to the judges in her defense, beaded fringe shaking all over her studded purple leotard as she gestured nervously. 

Carmelita and Intoxia also took hits for their performances. Carmelita especially fared poorly because she was considered too effeminate for her character. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the judges loved Lady Cakes’ performance, but weren’t wowed by the look of her giant green caftan and lumpy, black leather fingerless gloves. Kali Sister’s only crime seemed to be that she wasn’t as memorable as the others.

“Draco–, tell us about your ‘Red Carpet Realness’ look,” RuPaul asked.  

“This is actually my first time sewing with carpet,” she told them. “I found this old rug in my boyfriend’s attic. It wasn't easy material to work with, mind you, but I’m happy with the way it turned out,” Draco said, smoothing a hand down the narrow sleeve of her jacket.

RuPaul laughed. 

Todric grinned. “I want to know how many gay antique dealers between here and London are throwing their remotes at the TV right now.” 

“None — they all had heart attacks and died the moment they saw her walk out here,” Carson Kressley quipped. 

“I think it’s a very out-of-the-box approach,” Ya Kid K offered kindly. 

Michelle sighed. “Did you think anything might have been a little off when you saw what the other girls were wearing on the runway?" 

“I did,” Draco confessed, “But I’m the only one serving ‘Red Carpet Realness’ on this runway. I don’t know what these other queens are trying to prove.”

The judges looked baffled.  

“Once I saw how the other girls were wearing lots of jewels, I did switch to some sparklier jewelry.” She pointed at her diamond choker and earrings. 

“Did you grow up without a TV?” Carson asked. 

“Yes,” she answered frankly. 

This was apparently not the answer the judges expected, because a moment of silence filled the set before RuPaul spoke up. “How many TV shows would you say you’ve seen?” 

“RuPaul’s Drag Race, RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars, Untucked,” Draco began ticking off on her fingers, “The Great British Bakeoff, and a few nature documentaries. That’s all I can remember.” 

“Well, this isn’t exactly the first time we’ve had a red carpet runway challenge on this show,” RuPaul countered. 

“...Oh.” 

“Your performance as Cher was on point,” Todric said, and Draco was grateful for the change of the subject. “You knew your choreography, you knew your lines, and you got the Alicia Silverstone facial expressions down.” Draco smiled.

“Thank you, Draco,” RuPaul finished. “Now, Steve Donovan, tell us about your outfit.”

—

“Now, ladies,” RuPaul continued after the judging ended. “Tonight, I’m going to have to send somebody home. Who should it be, and why?”

“Draco,” the rest of the queens answered. Draco frowned. 

“She’s the least experienced of any of us,” Kali said.

“I think she needs to practice a bit more and come back in a few years.” Lady Cakes agreed.

“There’s so much she doesn’t know,” Steve added.

“Honestly, I don’t know why she’s here,” Intoxia told the judges. “She’s not a performer, so I don’t know what she hopes to get out of being here in the first place.

“When I look at Draco, I don’t see a star,” Venus said. Draco scoffed.

“She’s the least experienced, and has no fucking clue about anything,” Carmelita explained, sending Draco a disgusted look. “She needs to just go back to Planet Draco or wherever—”

“PlaNETSSS,” Draco interrupted. “Starsss. Galaxiesss. Bitch, I have my own constellation!” With that, Draco crossed her left hand to her right hip and began tracing the arc of the constellation Draco up, over her head, down the other side, and back up, ending with a snap of her fingers.

“Okay, Draco,” RuPaul turned to her. “Who do you think should be sent home, and why?” 

“Carmelita,” she responded coolly. “Obviously, she’s been cast on the show to be a villain rather than show any sort of improvement or character arc. She’d do better to go home and learn her manners. And constellations,” she added. 

— 

Eventually, the queens were sent backstage to the Untucked lounge, where Team Paris were cackling madly at a silly gesture Cindy was making with her headdress. The laughter died as they picked up on the tense mood of the other queens, who each grabbed a drink and joined them in the lounge. Lady Cakes appeared to struggle to pick up her glass, and ended up abandoning it on the coffee table, laying her hands gently on her lap. 

“Okay, what happened?” Goldie asked. 

“We all had to say who we thought should go home, and most people said Draco,” Intoxia answered.

“Ta,” Draco sniffed and took a sip from her cocktail. “Really, you all should know I don’t hold it against you. Well, most of you, anyway,” she said with side eye at Carmelita.

“Why are you even here, anyway? You don’t even perform, so it’s not like this is your career or anything.” Acacia asked.

“Yet,” Draco answered. “Why are any of us here? Aren’t we all celebrating the beauty of drag?” And the beauty of sweet revenge, Draco thought. But that wasn’t a motive to share with the muggles. 

“That’s not—” 

“Oooh! Everybody, shush! We’re getting a message!” Ivana exclaimed suddenly as filming assistants wheeled a large screen into the lounge. All conversation was forgotten as Carmelita received a recorded video message from her parents. Draco tuned it out, knowing she would never get such a message herself. 

—

Back on the runway, the Venusian team faced final judgment while their Parisian sisters stood in the back.

“Welcome back, ladies. I’ve made some decisions,” RuPaul told them. “Lady Cakes McMansion...you are safe. You may join the other girls.” Lady Cakes bowed her head and went to the back. 

“Kali Sister, you are safe.” Kali thanked her and joined the others. “Steve Donovan, you are safe.” Steve’s bottom lip wibbled before she sobbed and walked back. “Intoxia...you are safe.” 

That left just Draco, Venus, and Carmelita in the bottom three. 

“Carmelita,” RuPaul addressed her, “I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.” Carmelita nodded stiffly, fighting a grimace.

Draco and Venus looked at each other uneasily.

“Draco—, you served us uniqueness with your red carpet look tonight on the runway. But if you don’t watch out, these other queens will walk all over you,” RuPaul admonished. Draco braced herself and gave RuPaul a steady look and a stiff upper lip. “Draco—, you are safe.” Draco let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and curtsied before walking to the back of the stage.

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience cheered. Draco grinned. Maybe she had more on her side in the wizarding world than she thought.

—

—Confessional—

“Thank Ru I don’t have to lip sync again this week!” Draco gushed to the camera.

—

“Venus Flygirl, I’m sorry, but you are up for elimination.” Venus had a look of pained resignation on her face.

Draco stood back with the others as Venus and Carmelita faced off in a lip sync battle about jam.

—Confessional—

“I don’t wanna have to send my Latina sister home,” Carmelita told the camera, “But there ain’t no way I’m going home so early. Bitch better start packing.”

—

Venus, however, proved to be a very experienced performer, and literally danced circles around Carmelita, who stood in one place and gesticulated wildly in several directions. Carmelita went home. 

“Condragulations, ladies,” RuPaul said after Carmelita’s teary goodbye. “And remember, if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else? Can I get an amen up in here?”

“Amen!” The queens chimed.

As the closing music played, Draco danced with the others, grateful to once again have been spared from elimination. She still had no idea how far she could go in this competition, but she started to feel like she might have a future in drag — regardless of what the other queens thought. 

—At the Viewing Party—

Draco performed a lip sync to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance,” which the manager of the Bent Unicorn had requested since many customers had missed the first episode. After the audience reactions during the episode, she wasn’t too surprised to hear people cheering her on during the number. The cheers spurred her on and she felt more confident in her performance. 

What did surprise her were the sickles and knuts that a few wizards and witches tossed onto the stage during her number.

“Here you go, Draco,” the manager said at the end of the night as he handed her a small bag of galleons as a booking fee. “I dare say this turned out great for business! Same time next week, yeah?” Draco agreed, not having anything else on his calendar until the Drag Race finale in a few months. “Though next time, maybe you could perform something with a little magic in it, now that you’re not in front of muggles?” 

Drag with magic? The thought hadn’t occurred to Draco, but she found her mind racing with ideas.

—

—Episode 3 Sneak Peek—

The dolls are exercising their powers of persuasion to sell RuPaul products! 

“You wanna know what?” Lady Cakes asked the camera with a devious grin.

Lorena turned to face the back of the set and wiggled her well padded derriere. She looked over her shoulder and said in a sexy voice, “Chicken butt!”

“You wanna know why?” Lady Cakes continued.

Draco ran her free hand up one long leg and pouted. “Chicken thigh,” she sighed in her sultriest voice. Merlin, this was stupid.

Chapter Text

—The Morning of the Viewing Party—

Draco stepped out of the floo and into the dimly lit wizarding reception room of Best of Both Worlds. This was the relatively new shop that Dean Thomas had opened with his muggle sister next to the Leaky Cauldron. The business primarily catered to muggleborns and their families, offering email-to-owl mailing services, wizarding/muggle currency exchange and credit services, and electronic devices that had been modified to resist shorting out around magic. After Harry had told Draco about buying his laptop there, Draco had found their services indispensable in preparing his audition video for Drag Race.

He brushed a tiny mote of soot off his robes and walked into the shop’s main room facing the muggle street, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the much brighter lighting.

“Draco!” A woman with smooth chocolate skin and bleached dreadlocks called to him from the counter. “I see you got our owl. Thanks for coming in! Are you performing again tonight?”

“Hello, Mariah,” he said, “Yes, I’m planning to lip sync to Celestina Warbeck after the viewing.”

Draco pulled out a mobile phone, setting it on the counter. “You stated that I need social accounts and I should bring in my phone, but I’m not sure I understand what that means.” He flashed her a sheepish grin.

Mariah grinned back. “Yes, social media accounts! We received quite the urgent message earlier. It seems World Of Wonder has been trying to call you ever since the first episode aired, but your phone has been turned off.”

Draco shrugged. “I didn’t think I needed it anymore, once I received the call to be on the show.”

Mariah laughed. “Oh, sweetie, you’re going to have to stay connected from now on. Haven’t you realized that you’re famous now? People have been wanting to follow you on Instagram, Twitter, et cetera – and clubs are wanting to book you for gigs! They need a way to contact you.”

“Gigs? Do you mean more performances?”

“Yes, silly!” Mariah laughed again. “Anyway, I can help you get those set up, but it will be best if you can learn to manage your own presence online. And a royalty check came in for you this morning. Dean converted it to galleons before leaving for his lunch break. He was going to send an owl this afternoon, but as long as you’re here—” She opened a drawer and pulled out two pieces of muggle paper and a bag of coins. 

Oddly enough, Draco had forgotten that he was supposed to be getting paid for appearing on the show. He did his best to hide his surprise quickly and signed the slip of paper Mariah handed him before pocketing the money.

“Yes, of course, thank you,” he told her. “Now, how do I find this Instant Graham?”

—Beginning Episode 3—

After Carmelita’s elimination, the queens tiredly hobbled back into the workroom.

“Ugh,” Cindy Sanchez moaned. “I don’t know about all of y’all, but my dogs are barking!”

“Arf! Arf!” Goldie Hanako barked playfully and laughed even as she tore off her ginger wig and flung herself onto the workroom sofa.

“Aww, Carmelita,” Venus Flygirl sighed as she saw the other queen’s farewell message in lipstick on the mirror, which simply read “XOXO, Carmelita Corazon” with a rather crude drawing. 

Kali Sister guffawed. “Did she really draw a dick on the mirror?” Venus shook her head and immediately wiped it off. 

“Congratulations, honey,” Lady Cakes McMansion told her. “That was one devastating lip sync!”

“Thanks, Lady! I’m just glad to live another day, you know?”

“And how about that win, Miss Ivana?” Paris Davenport asked coyly.

Ivana Mann chuckled. “Girl. At my age, I’m grateful to still be alive after that marathon!”

“No shit! That was the most physical challenge I’ve ever had as a drag queen!” Cindy commented.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, girl,” Acacia Davenport sang, and struck a pose. Apparently she was still living her gold bikini fantasy.

Eventually, the queens began shedding their wigs and dresses and taking off makeup. Draco’s head turned abruptly when he heard Lady Cakes gasp in pain at the clothing rack next to his.

“Are you all right?” Draco asked.

“I’m fine,” Lady Cakes muttered, struggling to remove a lumpy black leather fingerless glove. He hissed.

“Obviously,” Draco rolled his eyes. “May I help you?”

Lady Cakes sighed and held out the wrist in question. Draco gently peeled off the glove only to find a wrist brace underneath.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Draco whispered. He held out his hand for the other wrist, and Lady Cakes complied. 

“During the rehearsal,” he admitted. 

Draco peeled off the other glove to find another wrist brace. “Both your wrists?!”

Lady Cakes sighed. “I was trying to go easy on my left wrist during the live performance, and that messed up the right one.”

“Have you seen the medic?” Draco asked. The show provided a medic to handle any injuries that happened on set.

Lady Cakes nodded. “They’re both sprained,” he answered. “He gave me some painkillers and ice packs, but now I just gotta try not to use my hands or wrists for the next few days.” He laughed bitterly. 

“The next few days!” Draco was baffled. “They can’t just fix your wrists now? How in Ru’s name are you supposed to compete in the next challenge?”

“I don’t,” Lady Cakes sighed. “Looks like I’m going home next.”

Draco shook his head. “That’s stupid. I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve never had a sprain before, have you? It’s not like you can just take a pill and you’re cured. You gotta just not use those joints and wait it out until they heal.”

Draco just looked at Lady Cakes in frustration. “That’s so unfair.”

“Welcome to life, boo.”

—

On the ride back to the hotel, Draco reflected on the pained look on Lady Cakes’ face. It wasn’t like he’d never sprained anything before, like the other queen had thought. But every time, it only took a simple potion to heal it in a matter of minutes. He couldn’t imagine being stuck with an injury like that for days on end, let alone during a competition like Drag Race. If Lady Cakes couldn’t use either of her wrists in the next challenge, she’d definitely be sent home.

Once he was back in his room, his eyes landed on a small tub that sat on the bathroom counter with his other toiletries. He picked it up, thinking.

This was probably a terrible idea. But then, when had that ever stopped him?

He cracked open the door of his room, checking to make sure no one was watching, then snuck down the hall to where Lady Cakes was staying. It was very handy that so many of the queens had decorated their hotel room doors with performance photos so he knew exactly where to go. 

He knocked, and after a few seconds Lady Cakes answered the door, looking surprised to see him.

“I’ve been thinking about your wrists,” Draco said, uncertain how to go about what he was to offer. Too late to back out now. “If you’re interested, I have a salve that might help.” He held up the small tub. “A sort of home remedy, if you will.”

Lady Cakes’ eyebrows raised in interest. 

“But if you don’t mind, could we go to my room to apply it?” This was awkward. Why had he brought the potion with him?

“What?” Lady Cakes asked, even more skeptical now than before. “Why not just do it here?”

Because the Aurors will notice if anything magical happens outside my room, he couldn’t explain.

Draco shrugged.

“This ain’t illegal, is it?” Lady Cakes asked.

“I don’t think your government knows about this to ban it,” Draco reflected, “but discretion is a good idea.”

Lady Cakes shrugged and decided to follow Draco back to his hotel room. Once they got in the door, however, the larger queen shrieked.

Draco looked around to see what had set him off. Sitting on the desk chair next to the window was a large barn owl.

“How in the hell did that get in here?!” Lady Cakes cried. “You want me to call the front desk, sugar? They need to bring in Animal Control!”

Draco held up a hand. “Not to worry,” he said gently, hoping to have a calming effect on the other queen. He moved forward and untied the letter from the owl’s leg. 

Once relieved of its task, the owl flew towards Lady Cakes, who was still holding the door open. Lady Cakes screamed and ducked. The owl flew over his head, out the door, and down the hall.

“What. The fuck.” Lady Cakes held a hand over his heart. 

Draco said nothing, not sure how to explain away an owl in his hotel room. It hadn’t been there when he came in a few minutes before. It had worn a ribbon marked as a portkey on its other leg. The bird had apparently been portkeyed directly into his room and would likely portkey back now that its delivery had been made.

“Well, it’s gone now,” Draco said finally. Have a seat,” he gestured towards the bed. 

Lady Cakes sat down and allowed Draco to help get the wrist braces off. Draco gently smeared generous portions of the salve on each wrist. 

“I can’t make any guarantees,” he warned. “But I hope it helps you feel a little better.”

When he finished, Lady Cakes tried flexing one wrist. He gasped in surprise. “Better?!” he cried. “Oh my Lord, it feels good as new!” He tried flexing his other wrist. “I can’t believe it!”

Draco smiled sheepishly. “You should still go easy on your wrists tonight,” he warned, still unsure whether the potion would completely heal muggle joints. 

—

After Lady Cakes went back to his room, Draco picked up the letter the owl had delivered and sat down on his bed. The source wasn’t a mystery; Draco had recognized the Malfoy crest on the envelope immediately. He opened it with some trepidation.

Draco,

This is your last chance to end this shameful behavior of yours and return to England. Quit acting like a deranged muggle, or I will be forced to take action.

Lucius Malfoy

As soon as he finished reading, the letter disintegrated into a pile of dust. Lucius had always preferred this style of communication over howlers, which he considered gauche.

Draco banished the dust from the bed. What more could he possibly do to me, he wondered angrily.

His mind whirled with dark thoughts that could only be purged by flying on his broom or by smashing everything in his hotel room. He grabbed his broom and disapparated to the San Adra Quidditch Park.

—

The next morning, Draco was standing in front of the hotel with the other queens and waiting on their ride back to the studio when Lady Cakes approached him.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly and immediately found himself enveloped in a big bear hug.

“Thank you,” Lady Cakes sniffled softly into his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s in that stuff you gave me, but my wrists feel a hundred percent better this morning.”

Draco returned the hug, a little unsure how to react to the amount of emotion the other queen was showing. He had never been very accustomed to shows of affection in general.

“Don’t mention it,” he answered quietly as Lady Cakes pulled away and wiped a tear from his face. “Literally, actually. I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell people about it.”

Lady Cakes looked surprised, but then winked and pantomimed pulling a zipper across his lips. He didn’t ask about the owl, either, for which Draco was grateful.

—

The queens burst into the werkroom, ready to start the next challenge. 

“Oh my god, what happened to the mirrors?” Kali Sister exclaimed. A few queens gasped in horror. All the mirrors in the werkroom had been covered in black paper.

“Oh, no,” Cindy breathed. “Dude, how are we supposed to paint our faces like this?”

“Maybe we have to try to paint without looking?” Steve suggested.

After a few minutes of speculation, the large television screen lit up to start RuPaul’s opening message. 

“Hey, Racers!” she began. “This week, I want to know if you’ve got what it takes to sell it — and get people buying. Are you a marketing maven, or merely a mad woman?” She cackled maniacally, and the screen faded to black.

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul called as he entered the workroom wearing a neon green suit with neon pink polka dots and neon pink fedora. 

“For this week’s mini challenge, I want to see you give us your best face — on someone else! Pair up with the person next to you,” he said, and the queens drifted into pairs. Draco found himself paired with Goldie.

“Now,” RuPaul continued, “You will each have thirty minutes to make over your partner’s face. We’ve blacked out the mirrors to keep it a surprise,” he explained. “The queen who paints the best face wins. We’ll start with the queen on the left painting the queen on the right, and then switch. On your mark, get set, PAINT!”

—Confessional—

“This is insane,” Lorena Gucci lamented. “Normally, I take four or six hours to beat my face. How can I do it on someone else in just thirty minutes?!”

—

Queens scrambled to get to their makeup stations. Goldie dragged Draco over to his station and sat him down in the chair, then studied his face before reaching for some foundation. 

“You’re so pale,” he commented, contouring lines onto the blond’s face. “When you go outside, does your skin just, like, burst into flames or something?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Or something,” he replied. He was something of an expert at sun protection charms, especially since arriving in Southern California. The sun here felt much more intense than it had ever felt in England.

Before too long, RuPaul announced that they only had a minute left. Goldie yelped and quadrupled his speed. Draco tried hard not to flinch.

“Nice work, ladies! Now, switch! Painted ladies, paint your painters!”

Draco hurried Goldie over to his own station and began applying makeup, trying not to take too much time. It was awkward; he had spent plenty of time practicing putting makeup on his own face, but had never put it on someone else’s. The angle was different and he struggled with the brushes. 

“This may look a bit avant garde,” he commented as he painted thick color swatches across Goldie’s eyelids. The other queen’s lids twitched.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means that if you think it looks odd, that’s completely intentional.”

All too soon, RuPaul cried out, “That’s it! Brushes down, ladies!” The queens groaned but complied.

Once everyone stood in a single line, RuPaul held out a hand mirror. “Now, let’s take a look at each of your faces!”

One by one, each queen looked in the mirror and assessed their partner’s work. The reactions varied.

“Hmm, okay,” Paris commented of Ivana’s makeup job. “Not what I would do for myself, but okay.”

—Confessional—

“Oh, these bitches are shady!” Ivana confessed. “Don’t censor your emotions, honey!”

—

“Aww, you’re so good,” Kali gushed about Acacia’s work. “I would go out like this.”

Draco peered into the mirror and raised her eyebrows. “Nice work,” she told Goldie, honestly impressed.

Goldie took the mirror, looked at herself, and burst into laughter. “GIRL!” she shrieked in between laughs, “Why do I have two sets of eyebrows?!”

“More is more?” Draco had the good grace to look sheepish. She turned to RuPaul and explained, “It’s avant garde.” 

“Yes, of course it is, dahling,” RuPaul said, humoring her.

Finally, each queen had looked in the mirror. 

“And the winner is...Acacia!” RuPaul announced. The queens applauded.

“This week,” RuPaul continued, “The main challenge is personal. I am launching a new set of products, and I’m entrusting each of you to help me market them. I need you to create thirty-second commercial campaigns. You will be working in teams of three. Now, pick your partners!”

Draco looked back and forth as the other queens joined arms. These popularity contests were starting to wear thin on her.

“C’mere, boo,” Lady Cakes said, and pulled her over. Draco smiled in relief. Lorena joined their team as well.

When four teams emerged, RuPaul continued. “Now, because I own fifty-one percent of this company, I will assign each team a product. Oh, Pit Crew!” Four burly men clad only in underpants strolled into the werkroom, each one carrying a tray. RuPaul pointed to the first tray.

“Cindy Sanchez, Paris Davenport, and Acacia Davenport, you will advertise RuPowder, my new brand of finishing powder fit for a queen.” The trio contemplated the jar of powder on the tray.

“Venus Flygirl, Steve Donovan, and Intoxia Madison, you three will sell RuPaul’s Tuck Tape.” He picked up a roll of pink tape covered in pictures of herself from the next tray. “Just what every queen needs to turn a man into a lady.”

“Ivana Mann, Kali Sister, and Goldie Hanako, you will create an ad for ShadyRu, my new line of designer sunglasses.” He pointed to a tray of sunglasses on the third tray.

“And, last but not least, Lady Cakes McMansion, Draco—, and Lorena Gucci, you three will create an ad for RuPaul’s Thick-n-Juicy Chicken.” He picked a piece of chicken off the fourth tray and held it up to his face. “Deeeeelicious!”

“Now,” RuPaul continued, “Each group will have ten minutes for your screen test, and because Acacia won the mini challenge, your group will have fifteen minutes. Gentlemen, start your engines – and may the best woman win!”

—At the Viewing Party— 

The Bent Unicorn was packed, much like it had been the previous week. The Daily Prophet had continued its reporting of Draco’s performance on Drag Race. More people in wizarding Britain expressed sympathy in their letters to the editor after the second episode, arguing that Draco deserved more credit for her performance and wondered what was wrong with her red carpet look, anyway.

Draco was trying not to notice Rita Skeeter among the audience, however, not sure she was ready for one of Skeeter’s style of newspaper write-ups. Looking at the reporter across the room, Draco noticed a hooded figure sitting nearby at a table in a far corner. Something about the figure reminded Draco of someone, even though the person’s face was invisible and Draco couldn’t put her finger on what seemed so familiar about them.

She nudged Harry and pointed toward the other person just as the commercial break ended. Harry looked over and nodded. Draco could always trust Harry’s Auror senses to pick up on any potential threat. There was definitely an advantage to having the Saviour of the Wizarding World as a boyfriend.

—

Back in the werkroom, the queens sat in their teams and brainstormed ideas for selling their products.

—Confessional—

“This week’s challenge is to come up with a telly commercial,” Draco explained. “Our team is going to advertise RuPaul’s Thick-n-Juicy Chicken. I’ve never sold anything before, but I’m confident in my powers of persuasion. I know we can turn this out.”

—

“Okay, we need ideas,” Lady Cakes said, tapping a pen against a notepad.

“Whatever we do, I think we should be sexy about it,” Lorena commented.

“I agree, sex sells,” Draco nodded.

“It needs to be funny, too,” Lady Cakes added.

“Oh, do you know what?” Lorena asked, her face lighting up as she had an idea.

“Chicken butt,” Lady Cakes interjected absently. Draco and Lorena both stared at her.

“What, you’ve never heard that before?” Lady Cakes laughed. Lorena and Draco looked at each other in confusion. 

“You know English is my second language, right?” Lorena asked.

“I reject that as English,” Draco scoffed. 

Lady Cakes laughed again. “Ooh, this gives me an idea,” she looked thoughtful and tapped her pen again. “Hold on, Lorena, what were you about to say?” 

Lorena blinked. “I...don’t remember now.”

—

Later on, Draco walked onto the recording set with Lorena and Lady Cakes. They were each dressed in matching black corsets and knickers, fishnet stockings, heels, and blonde wigs in chin-length starlet curls. 

“Hey ladies!” Ross Matthews greeted them from a director’s chair behind the camera. Next to him was Michelle Visage.

“Hola,” Lorena cooed.

Michelle frowned. “Hold on, I’m confused. Are you here to sell chicken or lingerie?”

“Chicken. Obviously,” Draco answered, holding up a platter of chicken. Michelle fixed her with a piercing glare.

“Don’t worry, no one’s gonna go hungry,” Lady Cakes interjected. I’m gonna be feeding everyone with my lady cakes.” Lady Cakes gestured to her naturally bountiful bosom and buttocks. Draco looked at her and dropped her jaw, sliding a puzzle piece into a mental jigsaw puzzle.

—Confessional—

“I get it now!” Draco told the camera. “I thought Lady was an honorific,” he explained. “I thought she was like The Lady of Cakes. But actually, it’s a descriptor. It’s the type of cakes. Instead of Victoria Sponges, she has Lady Cakes.”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry snorted. “Really?” he asked. “The Lady of Cakes?”

Draco flicked the back of his head. “Hush. You’ll miss the good part.”

—

After a few minutes of scuffling around the set, the trio was ready to film their commercial. They stood together and faced the camera, Lorena and Draco draped on either side of Lady Cakes. Draco held the platter of chicken in front of the three of them.

“You wanna know what?” Lady Cakes asked the camera with a devious grin.

Lorena turned to face the back of the set and wiggled her well padded derrière. She looked over her shoulder and said in a sexy voice, “Chicken butt!”

“You wanna know why?” Lady Cakes continued.

Draco ran her free hand up one long leg and pouted. “Chicken thigh,” she sighed in her sultriest voice. Merlin, this was stupid.

“If you have a hunger for something mouth-watering...and juicy,” Lady Cakes told the camera, “then you need some of RuPaul’s Thick-n-Juicy Chicken. It’s sooo good—” she winked, “—just one bite will have you moaning in delight!”

Lorena picked up a drumstick from the platter and proceeded to fellate it in the most obscene way possible.

“CUT!” Michelle cried. The three looked at her. Lorena paused with the drumstick still in her mouth. “Take it down a notch, or we won’t get the episode past the censors,” she warned.

Lorena took out the drumstick with a soft pop. “Oh,” she said, and looked lost.

“You can be sexy, just don’t deep-throat a chicken on national television, okay?” Michelle explained. This didn’t make Lorena feel much better, as she had been counting on chicken fellatio to be her biggest contribution to the commercial.

“Let’s take it from—” Ross looked at the script they had given him “—’one bite will have you moaning in delight.’”

Draco delicately pretended to take a dainty bite from a chicken breast, then moaned and put it back on the platter. She rubbed her hand up and down her torso and batted her eyelids coquettishly. “Mmm, this breast is the best,” she cried.

Behind the camera, Ross and Michelle dissolved into giggles. 

“Ohh!” Lorena whined. “I want some!” She took the chicken platter from Draco. “I laaaahve this chicken!”

“Don’t bogart that chicken, baby,” Lady Cakes said, then grabbed two chicken thighs and murmured, “I want your thighs on my face.” She rubbed the pieces of chicken on her face, smearing sauce everywhere, and moaned. 

She reached out to Lorena and the two of them grabbed at each other in an imitation of a sloppy lesbian porn scene — within the limits of American censorship, of course. Draco grabbed the chicken platter before they fell on each other on the floor.

Draco stepped around in front of them and addressed the camera. “If you want what we’re having,” she said, her haughty expression indicating that the audience should want that very much, “look for RuPaul’s Thick-n-Juicy Chicken at a grocer near you. Act quickly and you will receive two pieces and a biscuit, on sale today!”

With that, Draco took another minuscule bite from her chicken breast, then dropped the platter on the floor as she thrashed in over-the-top throes of orgasmic delight. “Oh—ohhh!” her eyelids fluttered. “My ovaries are exploding!”

“And CUT!” Michelle called out.

“How was that?” Draco asked.

—At the Viewing Party—

Draco and Harry had been sharing a table at the Bent Unicorn with the unlikely combination of Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise Zabini, and Ron Weasley. The girls all cracked up into uncontrollable giggles. Harry’s jaw had hit the floor and he looked at Draco with surprise.

“Oi, Chicken Thigh!” Weasley guffawed. “Never would have pegged you for a breast man.” Blaise chuckled.

Granger slapped his arm. “RON!”

Draco did the most mature thing she could think of at the moment and stuck out her tongue at the ginger.

—

After each group had recorded their commercial, the queens were back in the werkroom to get ready for the runway challenge. They were sitting in front of their mirrors, applying makeup for the runway, while Paris was going on about how grateful she was that her mum loved her and supported her drag career, and the big drag family she had in the Davenport household.

“So…” Paris continued as she glued down her eyebrows, “What’s the family situation like for the rest of you?”

Here it comes, Draco thought. It wasn’t the most elegant conversation starter. The show staff had warned them that they were to approach certain talking points while putting on their makeup in each episode, so it was only a matter of time before the subject of family was introduced on camera.

“I’ve been pretty lucky," Ivana replied. “My dad and sisters know I do drag, and they’ve been okay with it. They’d still rather I did something more lucrative with my life, but they don’t, like, throw Bibles at me every time I see them. I’m taking that as a win.”

“I’m not really out to my family,” Goldie confessed. A few queens murmured their concern. “I mean, they know I’m gay, but they don’t know I do drag. I guess I’m gonna have to tell them before they see it on TV.” She sighed. 

“We all gotta come out sooner or later,” Cindy commented. “When you’re a drag queen, there’s no sense in trying to keep anything in the closet. My family doesn’t care, either about the drag or about being trans. My sister helps me sew some of my outfits,” she added. “Draco, how about you?” 

Draco took a deep break and paused in the middle of applying eyeshadow to the left eye. “I was disowned,” he replied crisply.

“Oh, no ma’am,” Goldie whispered.

“My family is very conservative,” he explained. “Family was always very important to me, but I was only important to family so far as I lived up to the right ideals and obligations. 

“And I can’t tell you how many sacrifices I made,” he continued, voice wavering slightly before he caught himself. “In the end, I was just a little too...poofty for my father’s liking.”

—Confessional—

“I refused to marry the witch my father picked out for me,” Draco told the camera. “So I was kicked out, his only son and heir, because he’d rather the name die with him than see me carry it on being myself.” 

He sighed and looked off to the side. “It’s given me a bit more freedom to live my life on my terms, I suppose. That’s why I use my real name in drag. Let our family name stand for something he hates.”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry reached his arm around Draco’s shoulder and gave her a hug. Pansy grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. 

A few people in the audience murmured notes that sounded vaguely sympathetic. The whole story had been very public in wizarding Britain, so most people knew at least some of the details already. Rita Skeeter’s quick-quotes quill hurriedly jotted down notes for the next Daily Prophet article anyway.

On the other side of the room, the hooded figure was still there. Draco tried to ignore it and focused back on the episode.

—

“Well, you have a family now, hon,” Kali said, and smiled softly at Draco. 

“Yeah, we’re sisters in Drag Race,” Lady Cakes added.

Draco smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “Now cut it out, I’m trying to apply eye makeup.” The other queens laughed.

“Okay, everybody stop being nice to Draco,” Ivana announced. “Girl needs all the help she can get!”

“Ta,” Draco rolled his eyes even as he laughed with the others.

—

That night, the runway challenge was Signs of the Zodiac. When it was Draco’s turn, she stopped in the doorway that framed the entrance from backstage, striking a pose in profile. Her right side faced the judges and revealed a long, sparkling silver gown that graced the floor on either side of a long slit up to her hip, showing off leg for days. The gown hugged her lithe frame around the middle to show off a shapely backside and tiny waist. Her arm gracefully extended in front of her, encased in a long, sheer sleeve studded with tiny crystals. The gown had a high neckline that showcased her naturally long, swanlike neck. She wore her hair in a pale blonde chignon gathered just to the right side of her nape.

Her left hand, looking more masculine without the longer, polished nails of her right hand, reached up to her right shoulder and pushed. Draco swiveled with the movement to face the other direction, showing only his left side.

RuPaul gasped at the reveal. Draco smirked, hand still raised to the right shoulder, and quirked up his eyebrow at the judges. Draco’s entire left side was in male costume — matching grey trouser leg and shoe beneath a silver-grey suit jacket with a high collar. He wore his short, natural hair on the left, and no drag makeup.

A glittering silver heel on the right foot peeked around his left leg, revealing bare skin from the slit in the feminine gown. The leg curled around the left knee, then the whole body swiveled until Draco was facing fully front, showing both right and left sides to the judges.  

From this perspective, it was possible to see both looks simultaneously. The high collars on either side met in a diamond clasp at the center of the neck. The hair was parted down the middle, the chignon wig only covering the right side. Down the center of the chest was a heart, as a cut-out half-heart showing skin on the gown side and a half-heart-shaped lapel on the left side that revealed a white tuxedo shirt underneath. The rest of the outfit met in a smooth seam down the middle of the torso before dividing between the trouser leg and the skirt.

—Confessional—

“Tonight on the runway, I am exercising my Gemini privilege,” Draco told the camera. “This outfit represents the duality of my identities, both in and out of drag. These are the twins of Gemini, two sides of Draco— together at last, ready to show the judges a tango unlike any they’ve ever seen.”

—

Draco extended both arms in front and clasped hands, then gracefully stepped forward down the runway in a makeshift tango. With his face split down the middle between male on the left and drag makeup on the right, it looked almost like two people dancing together whose bodies had merged halfway.

“Draco is really feeling herself tonight!” Ross chirped.

“It takes two to tango,” RuPaul commented.

“But only one if you’re Draco!” Michelle added.

At the front of the runway, Draco spun around once before pretending to dip, her right side facing forwards while arching backwards gracefully. She rose back up and tangoed out to the right side of the stage, then spun and tangoed to the left side and bowed. Draco then tangoed back to the middle and performed an elaborate triple spin before tangoing back up and offstage.

Draco felt proud of this runway look and reveal. So far in the competition, she had been struggling to keep up with the others. But for the first time, she felt like she was really living in the moment.

—

Whatever sense of euphoria Draco felt when dancing on the runway evaporated during the face-to-face session with the judges. Ivana, Goldie, Venus, Kali, Steve, and Intoxia had already been declared “safe” and sent back to the Untucked lounge.

“Draco, Draco, Draco,” Michelle shook her head. “Are you going to give us the same silhouette every week?”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “But it’s my silhouette.”

“And this is drag!” Michelle countered. “I get that you like being an unpadded queen, but when you come out here as half male, I just see boy. We should see more of an extreme between the male and female sides.” Draco pursed her lips.

“Oh, hon, I think you’re beautiful just the way you are,” special guest judge Dolly Parton cooed. Draco smiled and winked at her. 

“Yeah, you’re giving me this romantic mitosis fantasy moment — or is it meiosis?” asked special guest judge Neil Patrick Harris. The judges laughed. “I can’t remember my biology!” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m living for it.”

“Why, Dr. Howser, I’m cancelling my Thursday appointment,” RuPaul replied. The judges laughed again.

“I’m not mad at it,” Ross said. “Especially with that quirky dance you did on the runway.”

“Well, I’m mad!” Michelle retorted. “Look, it’s been three weeks, and you’ve given us the same shape every time you come out here. I’m starting to get bored.”

Draco huffed. It’s not like she’d never seen another queen on Drag Race who went without padding.

“Bored?!” she cried. “For Ru’s sake, you really think I need a fluffy pair of tits to avoid boring you?!”

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” RuPaul interjected. The other queens on the stage shared looks with each other.

Draco stopped and blinked, mouth open. “Er — well,” she floundered. Once again, it seemed Draco’s mouth had run off without letting her brain catch up first. Would RuPaul send her home for talking back to Michelle Visage?

“What about my sake?” RuPaul prompted.

Oh. She’d been using RuPaul’s name in the werkroom and in the interviews, but not in front of the actual queen herself. She breathed.

“Well, I’m not religious, you see,” Draco tried to explain. “So I’m not one to say things like ‘Thank God’ or the like. While I’m on this show, I want to keep my exclamations drag relevant.”

This was a half truth, of course. She wasn’t about to say anything here about Merlin or Circe, either.

RuPaul laughed, and Draco relaxed.

—Confessional—

“When in doubt, maybe it doesn’t hurt to deify the boss,” Draco shrugged.

—

After the judging, Draco and the other “unsafe” queens — Lady Cakes, Lorena, Paris, Acacia, and Cindy — were sent back to the Untucked lounge while the judges deliberated. 

The latter three were in a decidedly testy mood; apparently, their commercial had managed to make RuPaul’s makeup look ugly, and they were each judged harshly. Draco was privately grateful to have escaped the criticism with only Michelle’s complaints about padding.

“This was a stupid challenge anyway,” Cindy argued, wearing a tight, mustard-yellow catsuit with a thick dirty-blonde mane. “Who does RuPaul think she is, using Drag Race to schlock her own merch? This show is like one hour-long ad for her products.”

Cindy had been one of half a dozen Leos on the runway. Too many Leos in a showboating competition was destined to cause irritation and bitterness for everyone involved.

“She thinks it’s her show and she can do whatever the bloody tit she wants with it,” Draco rolled her eyes, “And she’s right.” 

—Confessional—

“Really!” Draco scoffed. “Tell us more about how unhappy you are with RuPaul while the cameras are running, sweetie. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ru sends her home just for that! Besides, I actually think it’s quite cunning, using this platform in such a way, and I’m not just saying that to toady up to the boss, either.”

—

Draco quickly downed her drink while the other queens continued to argue about the commercials like too many cats trapped in a very small bin. She then got up and slipped out the door to the parking lot for some fresh air and fellow air signs.

She found Ivana and Steve smoking just outside the back door. Ivana had a large jug balanced at a precarious angle on her head to mark her as an Aquarius. Steve, apparently a Libra, simply held a set of scales in the hand not holding a cigarette. They both casually waved at Draco in greeting.

“Can I ask you something?” Draco asked.

They shrugged.

“I confess I’ve never really spent time around smokers before,” Draco admitted. “Though I’ve heard all about how it’s supposed to be bad for one’s health. If I’m not too bold, may I ask, why start in the first place?”

Ivana laughed. “Honey, you haven’t spent much time in the clubs, have you?”

“Yeah hon, everybody smokes in the show circuit,” Steve added.

Draco gave them a bemused look. “So? You just started smoking because other people were?”

Ivana laughed again. “Well in my case, I’d already been smoking since I was twelve.”

“I started after I started doing drag,” Steve told him. “I was having a bad day and my drag mama gave me a ‘mokey treat to take the edge off.” She shrugged. “One led to another, and when other people light up, I light up, too.”

“Yeah, they don’t lie when they say it’s more addictive than crack,” Ivana blew out a puff of smoke and smiled sardonically.

Draco considered this for a moment. “All right,” she said. “May I give it a try?”

Ivana looked at her with surprise, then handed over her cigarette.

Draco took the small burning stick and examined it up close. The smoke fumes smelled noxious, though they didn’t have the added stale, dead-animal bouquet on the smoking queens’ clothes that occasionally overpowered her when she stood next to them. Interacting with so many smokers really made Draco wish she hadn’t inherited her mother’s sensitive sense of smell.

She lifted it to her lips, careful not to get any of Ivana’s lipstick on her own, and inhaled a tiny amount. The hot smoke seared her throat and instantly took her back to the Room of Requirement. She closed her eyes and couldn’t help but see Fiendfyre all around her and heard Crabbe’s cries of anguish as he was swallowed by the flames. 

Draco coughed and sputtered inelegantly. She handed the cigarette back to Ivana. “Thanks,” she managed to rasp out.

Ivana shrugged again and took another puff. “Meh, you’re really better off if you don’t get into it,” she told Draco. “Some nights, it feels like half of the money I make in the clubs goes toward these things. I just haven’t been able to kick the habit.”

Draco considered this and looked out across the parking lot while the other two smoked in silence. She started to turn back to the door to go back inside when Steve screamed.

“Hey, is that an owl?!”

Draco swiveled around to face the direction Steve was looking at. A large barn owl was flying directly towards them. Draco held out her arm and the owl landed. 

“Shit!” Ivana screamed.

“What– what the fuck?!” Steve yelled.

Draco calmly removed the envelope from the owl and scritched its head. The owl hooted and took off in the direction from whence it came. Draco ignored Steve’s and Ivana’s looks of shock as she opened the envelope and read its contents. It bore the seal of the Ministry of Magic.

“Did that owl really just bring you mail?!” Steve asked incredulously.

Draco pursed her lips and leaned back against the railing. If ever she had a moment when she might have wished for something to take the edge off her stress, this would have been it. She looked back at Ivana and almost asked for another hit of her cigarette, before she remembered the burning and the Room of Requirement. And the stench. No, that wasn’t an option. 

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. After a moment, she folded the letter back in the envelope and stuffed it into the half-heart-shaped slit in her gown. There would be time to process this news later.

Without another word, Draco went back inside and sat silently among the other queens in the Untucked lounge while Acacia and Cindy yelled at each other. Draco wasn’t even paying attention to what the argument was supposedly about. She suspected the ample free cocktails might have had something to do with it, though.

—

Eventually, the queens were summoned back onto the stage and formed a line facing the judges.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” RuPaul drawled. “Lady Cakes McMansion, Lorena Gucci, Draco— Condragulations, you three are the winners of this challenge.”

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience cheered. 

—

Draco’s eyebrows raised and her jaw dropped. Lady Cakes clapped her hands together and Lorena jumped up and down, squealing with delight.

—Confessional—

“We won the challenge!” Draco crowed. “Take that, haters!”

—

“You have each won a custom latex outfit designed by Cherries and Minx,” RuPaul continued. “Thank you; you may join the others at the back of the stage.” Draco nodded in gratitude, stunned that she wasn’t in the bottom this time.

Instead, RuPaul declared that both Acacia and Cindy were up for elimination. The two lip synced to a twangy song about working. Cindy trotted around the stage and emoted every facial expression possible, while Acacia devoted herself to incessant shablamming and shaking her lion’s tail. 

Cindy Sanchez sashayed away.

As the remaining queens closed out the episode by dancing on the runway to one of RuPaul’s latest singles (now available on iTunes), Draco’s mind couldn’t help but stray back to the letter. 

Draco was being sued by Lucius Malfoy. 

—

Sneak Peek for Episode 4: 

“We’re going to have a ball — and it’s Queens! Queens! Queens across the world!” RuPaul announced.

Draco lifted the spider closer to his face and smirked. “I shall make you my drag daughter,” he told it, “And I shall call you Araneus.”

“I grew up in the Wiltshire countryside, just a stone’s throw away from the best henge in all the world, ” Draco explained.

“Really? The best henge?” RuPaul asked in delighted amazement.

“The best,” Draco repeated. “All those other henges are utter rubbish.”

Chapter Text

—Before the Viewing Party—

Draco gave herself one final appraisal in the mirror backstage at the Bent Unicorn before taking a selfie and posting it to Instagram. The beauty of her muggle camera was that any magic she used could be masked by the stillness of the photo or by claiming she had gone shopping. She was still working on her grasp of the ever-changing jargon, but she was becoming a fast fan of social media. She finally had a way to show off more of her handiwork in designing costumes beyond Drag Race and her pub performances.

Seconds after she posted this photo, it gained nine likes, and rightly so — she had cast Serpensortia more than two hundred times to create the Medusa wig she now modeled for her Girls Gone Gorgon number. What looked like a massive amount of hair from a distance consisted of a large nest of small bubblegum snow corn snakes. The whole piece was so heavy she had had to cast a lightening charm on it just to lift her head up. They slithered around her head in shades of pink and pale green, fanning out in every direction and cascading down her shoulders and torso over a nude illusion, never stopping their movement — except in the muggle photo. Muggles would only see a very realistic-looking imitation. 

Draco checked her direct messages. “GIRL! LOL WHERE YOU BEEN??????” Goldie had sent. Draco sent off a quick reply and navigated to her page information. Her jaw dropped.

546,738 followers.  

There were 28 sacred families in Britain who had remained pureblood into the twentieth century; only 25 had survived the last war. Hogwarts had an average class size of 40 per year to represent all of the United Kingdom’s wizarding youth. The Dark Lord, at his most powerful, had commanded 63 Death Eaters and a few dozen other acolytes and wannabes. After the war, the Official Harry Potter Fan Club boasted over 200 fans. 

The wizarding world was small. Draco was still struggling to believe there were more than 500,000 people in the world, let alone muggles on Instagram who cared about drag queens. Draco had more followers paying attention to her than she had ever dreamt possible. This was power.

A knock on the door preceded Harry’s entrance, followed by Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode. They waved in greeting as Harry smiled at Draco and hissed.

“Look at my eyes, Harry,” Draco said. The girls giggled. Such was the side effect of wearing snakes around a Parselmouth boyfriend.

Harry shook his head and focused on Draco’s eyes. “I was asking if you wanted something to drink.”

Draco smiled. “Sure, you know what I like.” Harry smiled back and disappeared toward the bar.

“So, what brings the two of you here?”

“I wanted to ask you a drag-related question,” Millicent said as she claimed one of the stools next to the vanity. Granger leaned against the wall by the door. “And you were busy dolling yourself up, so I saw Granger and thought maybe she would know, since it’s a muggle thing.”

“But I’m not a drag expert,” Granger interjected.

“Right,” Millicent continued. “So, what can you tell me about women in drag?”

Draco blinked. Millicent had been in Draco's year in Slytherin when they were at Hogwarts. She had never quite blended in with the other Slytherin girls, who sometimes bullied her for being more "butch" than the rest. But she had always got on well enough with Draco, and the two of them had even dated briefly during second year, before either of them had fully sorted out their respective orientations.

“What do you mean? We’re all men passing ourselves off as women — some of us more successfully than others, of course,” Draco replied. “Oh, but there are some queens who identify as transgender women,” she added.

Millicent shook her head. “No, I mean, aren’t there women who pretend to be men?”

“Some of the queens have played male characters on Snatch Game.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Millicent turned to Granger. 

Granger rolled her eyes. “She wants to know about how someone like her could get into drag.”

“Right! Why should the boys have all the fun?” Millicent added.

At that moment, Harry reentered the dressing room with a bottle of champagne and a tray with four flutes levitating behind him. “The bartender said you could just have the whole bottle, so sssaass sethhh esssssaaaaa. ”

Millicent laughed. “I could listen to that all day.”

“My eyes are up here, Harry.”

“Bugger,” Harry sighed. He set the bottle and tray on the vanity. “In my defense, it’s really hard to talk to you in that costume!”

Draco raised a delicately painted eyebrow. “You can take it off of me later,” she purred. Harry gave her a feral grin.

“Anyway!"  Granger huffed and cleared her throat. She shot Harry an irritated look, as if it were his fault that Draco was so irresistible.

“I think I remember hearing about something like that,” Draco told Millicent. “RuPaul used to have a programme where they brought in Drag Race queens, and they taught women how to be queens themselves. Does that help?”

Millicent frowned and ran a hand through her short, dark hair.

“Wait a minute,” Granger said. “Do you mean to tell me that they had men telling women how to look like men pretending to be women?”

Well. When she put it like that... “They were changing lives,” she said in RuPaul’s defense.

“I’m sure,” Millicent snorted derisively.

Granger tapped a finger to her chin. “There has to be more to it than that.”

Harry chuckled. “Look out, Bulstrode. Hermione’s got her research face on.” 

—Beginning Episode 4—

After the end of Episode 3, the queens reentered the werkroom to find Cindy Sanchez’s lipstick message. 

“Oh, Cindy!” Venus Flygirl cried, then squinted at the mirror. “What did she do, write a novel?”

Indeed, Cindy had written a very long message — so long, in fact, that she had had to change to a second shade of lipstick two thirds of the way through.

Draco was surprised to feel a pang of loss at Cindy’s departure. She hadn’t gotten to know Queenie Q at all at the beginning, and really hadn’t warmed up to Carmelita Corazon — but Cindy had been an upbeat, cheerful presence in the workroom.

“Werk, Mama,” Goldie Hanako cheered as Acacia Davenport wiped away the message. “You pulled out some serious moves in that lip sync!”

“I’ll do what I gotta do to get in the Top Four,” Acacia said. “Keep ‘em comin’ — I’ll lip sync against anyone!”

“Or, you could, like, not land in the bottom,” Lorena Gucci shot back, giving Acacia a bored look. “Do you think RuPaul wants to crown a winner who can’t win a challenge?”

Draco didn’t need a crystal ball to anticipate the shouting match that followed those words.

At some point during the queenstorm, Ivana Mann rolled her eyes and smiled at Lady Cakes McMansion and Draco. “Well anyway, congrats to the two of you on your win! I guess I’ll have to congratulate Lorena later after the shit settles.” She laughed.

“That was the best chicken,” Lady Cakes preened. Draco smirked.

—

After everyone had changed and left the studio, Draco found himself riding back to the hotel with Lady Cakes, Kali Sister, Venus Flygirl, Steve Donovan, and Goldie Hanako.

“You know something weird?” Steve turned in his seat so he could grin at the others. “There was an owl outside the studio tonight!” 

“No shit, I saw an owl in our hotel the other night, too!” Kali added, and laughed. “I was just heading to the ice machine when I saw it swooping down the hall towards the front desk.”

“Whoa! Did it attack anybody? The one outside the studio went right for Draco.” 

Lady Cakes turned around and fixed a look at Draco, who sat quietly in the back seat and pretended to pick a speck of link off his shirt.

“Oh my God!” Goldie exclaimed, sitting next to him. He placed a protective hand on Draco’s wrist, moving so quickly that Draco jumped from the sudden contact. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Draco assured him.

“It gave her a letter, and she got to pet it. It was really kind of cute,” Steve explained.

“Really!” Kali now turned to smirk at Draco. Draco was taken aback when the other queen winked at him.

“I’ve never heard of so many owls being in the city before,” Venus wondered.

“Maybe they’re an invasive species?” Steve suggested.

“Maybe,” Lady Cakes said. He looked speculatively at Draco.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just escaped a zoo or a film set or something. I mean, this is Hollywood — anything can happen,” Kali said.

—

Draco remained quiet throughout the journey back to the hotel. Steve’s mention of the letter was an unfortunate reminder of the bad news he had received from the Ministry of Magic back in Britain. He threw himself onto the bed and pulled it from his pocket to reread the short message.

Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy:

Pursuant to a lawsuit brought forth by Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a hearing before the Wizengamot has been arranged to decide your rights to, and privileges regarding, the use of the name Malfoy, scheduled for July 17. 

At this hearing, you will have the opportunity to defend yourself against charges of “using the name of Malfoy in behavior unbecoming of the family”, as leveled by Eldritch Clearwater, attorney for Mr. Lucius Malfoy. 

In the interim, due to your disownment this usage is considered to be without permission of the head of the family and must be terminated immediately. Should the Wizengamot rule in your favor, you shall be permitted to resume use of the name.

Sincerely,

Susan Bones

Secretary to the Wizengamot

Maybe he should have seen this coming. Lucius was not the type to sit back and let Draco take revenge for his disownment by making the Malfoy name famous as a drag queen. Eldritch Clearwater was the Malfoy family lawyer, the same one who had managed to keep Lucius out of Azkaban after the war. He was really good. Too good, in fact, for Draco to have much hope of winning.

What was worse, he didn’t know how he would be able to take time off from filming Drag Race to even go to his own hearing. He’d probably have to accept defeat and sashay away in the next challenge.

As luck would have it, a spectral silver stag suddenly jumped through the hotel room window and stopped in front of Draco’s bed.

“Draco,” the stag spoke in Harry’s voice.

Harry.

“I waited to send this until I was sure you would be alone. I’ve found a lawyer, and she and I are going to work together to fight this stupid lawsuit. Don’t come back to London — you’ve worked too hard just to give up now. Stay in the race. I love you.”

The stag nuzzled the side of his face, then faded away into the mist.

Draco felt a sharp pang of loss. Being gone so long from his boyfriend had been harder than he would have anticipated. What he wouldn’t have given to be able to wrap his arms around him, or even just hear that voice for a little bit longer.

Of course, the brattier corner of his mind thought, leave it to Potter to be able to send a corporeal patronus halfway around the world.  

—

Draco tossed and turned in bed that night. His mind kept reminding him of the countless times Lucius had disapproved of him.

“Someone might think you were a girl,” Lucius had sneered one afternoon, pausing in the doorway of the manor ballroom. Nine-year-old Draco had been dancing by himself to a Celestina Warbeck song. Draco stopped immediately and stiffened into a more masculine posture. Lucius gave him an unimpressed look and continued on down the hall.

“For someone who claims to hate Harry Potter, you certainly can’t stop talking about him,” Lucius had admonished Draco before his second year. “It would be prudent to curb that habit when you get back to Hogwarts. It would be most unfortunate if someone were to draw the wrong conclusion and call you a poofter.”

Draco had never felt like his father approved of him. If Lucius didn’t complain about Draco’s behavior, he complained that Draco wasn’t at the top of his class at Hogwarts. He wasn’t a good enough quidditch player to beat Potter. He didn’t learn the dark arts fast enough. 

But he had always tried to earn his father’s approval anyway. His left arm twitched at times when he thought about the sacrifices he had made for his father. He didn’t have to look at look at the mark on his arm to be reminded of it.

Even his lesser sentence as a Death Eater after the war had been met with disdain. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Lucius rolled his eyes. “You can’t even defend yourself in front of the Wizengamot without needing The Great Harry Potter to speak on your behalf.” Harry had spoken at the trials for both Draco and Narcissa, explaining how they had helped him during the war. As a result, Draco had gotten off with a mere one-year house arrest sentence and Narcissa had gotten just a slap on the wrist. “You never could do anything better than him,” Lucius added for further insult to injury.

Being trapped in Malfoy Manor together for almost a year had grown to be unbearable. 

“As soon as your house arrest sentence ends, you will marry Astoria Greengrass,” Lucius announced one day, eleven months into the sentence. 

Draco looked at his father with utter loathing as Lucius continued. “I’ve made all the arrangements with her father. We shall have the wedding here, and then the two of you will take up residence at our Chateau in Burgundy. It’s about time you started looking to your future rather than wallowing about like you’re on a staycation.”

The morning his sentence ended, Draco left Malfoy Manor before the wedding could take place, and he never returned. Lucius sent a letter to let Draco know in no uncertain terms that he was disowned. 

—

“Yeah, the owls are a problem.” Villareal sighed. She had approached Draco just minutes after he had started flying around the San Adra Quidditch Park for his morning laps.

“We’ve had to get in touch with the British Aurors because transporting animals across international borders without going through customs is a violation of international law. And no, before you ask, your boyfriend’s not coming over here to deliver them himself.” 

Draco scowled, though she pretended not to notice. “From now on,” she continued, “any more mail will be relayed through LAAD and I’ll pass it along to you. We can’t just let all these owls fly around delivering mail in front of no-mags. We managed to obliviate Ivana and Steve last night. Plus Kali and another no-mag who saw the owl in your hotel,” she added. 

Draco nodded, but remained silent. 

“I’ll talk with the producers today and come up with a reason why they need to stop using your last name on the set. You just focus on making yourself pretty.” She winked and flew off. 

Draco sighed in relief, glad to see her go. He flew another lap before descending and returning to the hotel.

—

“Morning, Children,” Lady Cakes sang as the queens boarded their ride to the studio. “Any more owl sightings?”

Draco shook his head. 

“Owl sightings?” Steve asked. “Who saw an owl?”

Lady Cakes gave him a strange look. “You did, last night. You said you saw one outside the studio.”

Steve laughed. “What? No I didn’t! It was just me and Ivana and Draco. I would have remembered if we saw an owl!”

“Yes you did!” Goldie insisted. “We were riding in this van after filming and you said you saw an owl attack Draco!”

Draco shrugged. “I’m fine, see?”

“Wait, I remember that, too,” Venus said. “Kali, you said you saw one in the hotel, didn’t you?”

Kali screwed his face into a thoughtful look. “No, I don’t remember that.”

“But you did, ” Lady Cakes insisted. 

“Draco, what did you see?” Goldie asked.

“Er—”

“Wait,” Kali interrupted. “What you’re saying is that both Steve and I saw owls, and one of them did something to Draco, but now we don’t remember?”

“YES,” cried Venus, Goldie, and Lady Cakes.

Kali laughed. “That’s so cool! I think I know what happened.” He winked at Draco.

Draco held his breath. Did Kali know something about magic?

“Yeah? What?” Lady Cakes asked. 

Kali grinned. “Aliens!”

“Oh. my. god.” Venus rolled his eyes.

“I bet this is some kind of psychological test. They implant some of us with certain memories, and then take those memories away just to see how we react when we’re confused.”

“Whoa,” Steve seemed genuinely impressed. “I’ve always wanted to be visited by aliens!”

“I can certainly say that I have no memory of an alien encounter last night,” Draco said.

“See?” Kali gestured towards him, as if his admission were proof of theory.

Lady Cakes laughed and shook his head. “Whatever! Just let me know when they start probing people. I wanna be around for that.”

—

After what felt like forever, the queens finally entered the werkroom to start their day of filming Episode 4. They engaged in some idle chitchat before RuPaul’s voice filled the room.

“Morning, Racers!” RuPaul chirped from the viewscreen. “Are you a beach blanket bimbo? Or do you prefer a Rocky Mountain High? Well, I don’t know about you, but I NEED A VACATION!” 

The queens looked at each other. 

“Ooh, maybe RuPaul’s taking us to Disneyland!” Goldie exclaimed.

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul entered the workroom and descended the stairs, this week wearing a white suit that looked like someone had spilled blue ink all over.

“For today’s mini challenge, I’m taking you to a concert!” The queens cheered. “More specifically, the concert just ended.” The queens booed. “I want you to try to get into the special backstage VIP lounge of the hottest girl group of 1990, Seduction — featuring Michelle Visage. I wonder whatever happened to her!” The queens laughed.

“So, for today’s mini challenge, you need to do and say whatever it takes to sweet-talk your way in. In the end, the queen with the funniest powers of persuasion wins. Now, you’ve got fifteen minutes to get your all-access VIP drag on. GO!”

The queens dashed to their stations. Draco had learned his lesson from the first time they had to throw on quick drag, and had foregone a workroom outfit covered in buttons. This time, he was wearing an aubergine velvet smoking jacket, untied to show a cropped midnight blue T-shirt that revealed his bare midriff. The shirt featured Draco’s name and constellation in shiny silver detail. He had paired it with dark blue skinny jeans and purple ankle boots.

She changed into an iridescent green dragonhide bodysuit, a large pink feather boa, and black thigh-high boots. Her wig was a shoulder-length mass of wavy curls.

Once all the queens were changed, they were led one by one to a stage with a large, heavy-looking metal door. 

Draco approached the door and rapped her knuckles on it. “Open up! I’m here for the party.”

“Oh yeah?” RuPaul’s voice came from a box beside the door. “And just who are you, exactly?”

“Eleanor Wonderwood the Third, Eleventh Duchess of Ramsbottom.”

“That’s funny, I’ve never heard of you.”

“How dare you!”

“Name three Seduction songs, and maybe I can squeeze you in.”

Draco pondered this. She really didn’t know any Seduction songs. She decided she might as well make some up. 

“Erm, hm, there’s ‘Look At My Tits,’” Draco counted on her fingers.

“What tits? I don’t see no tits.”

“That’s the song title, you berk,” Draco retorted before she could think about it.

“All right, that’s one song. What are the other two?” 

“‘Sex is Brilliant,’ and, erm, ‘Don’t Bugger Me in the Arse Unless You Got Twenty Quid.’” 

RuPaul laughed. “How does that last one go?”

Draco shuffled her feet. “Don’t—” she whined, “Bugger me in the arse! Whoa-whoa-whoa!” She spun around and shook her booty. “Unless you got, whoa-whoa-whoa…” She turned to look over her shoulder with her most flirtatious smile. “Twenty quid!”

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry snorted. “That’s probably going in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.”

She shrugged. Let Rita Skeeter write what she would. Draco was beyond caring what the Prophet had to say at this point. She had 546,738 followers on Instagram alone.

An idea struck her, and she picked up her phone to check Twitter. 314,549 followers.  

“Who’s got 20 quid???” she tweeted.

—

Back in the workroom, RuPaul addressed the queens, who were still in their quick drag. 

“Ladies! You were all total stalkers! But one of you proved you’ve got total schmooze control...Venus Flygirl!”

The queens clapped. Venus cheered for herself. 

“You’ve won a $1500 credit on AppSpaz. That’s AppSpaz,” RuPaul repeated. 

“Now! This week, we’re going to have a ball — and it’s Queens! Queens! Queens across the world!” RuPaul announced. The queens all cheered. 

“That’s right! For this week’s maxi challenge, you will each present three different looks on the runway. Hash tag: #DragRace.

“For your first look, you’ll be serving up Beach Blanket Realness. And by that, I mean you should wear a swimsuit, not a blanket,” RuPaul looked pointedly at Draco. The queens chuckled while Draco served her best sweet, innocent look. 

“I want to see your best beach-ready drag. For your second look, you will be serving us Sexy Vacation Realness. Show us what you plan to wear when you go on that casual little trip around the world.

“For your final look, I want you to truly take us on a journey by designing a glamorous couture frock inspired one of the Wonders of the World. Gentlemen, start your cruise ship engines, and may the best woman...win! ”

—Confessional—

“It’s down to eleven of us this week, and we each have to come up with three looks on the runway,” Goldie summarized. The camera switched to show the werkroom while Goldie narrated a voice-over. 

“That’s thirty-three different looks, and they told us, ‘Here’s a pile of random stuff you can use to make your Wonders of the World outfits.’ So we’re all dashing towards this pile and climbing over each other, and it’s like, complete chaos. And then I see Kali lift up this giant bag of unshucked corn and I have no idea where’s she’s going with that. Don’t she know that corn don’t help anyone on this show?"

—

“Girl, how is corn a Wonder of the World?” Goldie laughed. 

“I’m from Central Illinois! That’s the corn capital of the world!” Kali cheerfully answered.

Meanwhile, Draco found a stack of rectangular metal plates, some stiff wire, and a pair of metal rods. This wasn’t going to be a repeat of the first sewing challenge. No Sir! He could work with this.

—

“I can’t hot glue this material,” Intoxia held up a length of shiny, bulky teal fabric in frustration. “I should probably try to hand sew it. It’s too big for the machine,” he whined.

Ivana rushed to his side. “You can sew it. Just put some tape on the bottom of the foot so it can slide through the machine.”

Other queens seemed to recognize Ivana’s experience in this department, and started asking her more questions.

—Confessional—

“I’m helping a lot of the other girls in the werkroom. I don’t know why, when I should probably be cutting their bra straps instead,” Ivana laughed. The camera switched back to the werkroom, where Ivana was showing a nervous-looking Draco how to operate a sautering iron.

“If I get sent home for being too nice, I’ll be like, ‘Curse you bitches!’” He shook his fist in the air.

—

“Ivana, what do you think? Can I just pleat these pieces?” Acacia asked.

“You should gather that seam,” Ivana advised.

—

A hush fell over the werkroom as each contestant concentrated on their own costume constructions.

“It’s too quiet in here,” Paris declared at one of the stillest moments. “Someone start running their sewing machine so we can at least have some white noise.”

“AAAAAAaaaaaahhhh!!!” Acacia screamed. Several queens snapped their heads up.

“What’s wrong?” Goldie asked.

“There’s a spider!” Acacia cried. “OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod!!!” Acacia pointed to a spot on the worktable and moved to stand on a chair at the other end. Goldie, Paris, Intoxia, and Steve all screamed and backed away quickly.

—Confessional—

“Really?” Draco asked at the camera, raising one eyebrow. 

—

“It’s just a spider,” Draco reasoned in the face of the general chaos into which the room had degenerated. He watched as the others all shunned the unfortunate invertebrate in fear.

“Just look at it — it’s huge!” Intoxia shrieked.

“Kill it! Kill it!” Venus cried.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Here,” he sighed, and reached forward to pick up the spider with his hand. 

Acacia screamed. “What are you doing?! It’ll bite you!”

Draco shrugged. “It’s not that type of spider,” he answered, and inspected the arthropod more closely. Never had he connected with a spider the way he did in that moment — shunned by people who reacted out of fear more than understanding.

Suddenly overcome by a feeling of kinship, Draco lifted the spider closer to his face and smirked. “I shall make you my drag daughter,” he told it, “And I shall call you Araneus.”

He picked a tiny ball of pink lint off the table and gently placed it on Araneus’ head. Proportionally, it resembled a spider-sized pink afro wig. He held the spider up to the other queens, who were timidly watching the scene.

“You thought she was fierce before,” he said, “but look at her now!”

This was not destined to last long, unfortunately. A production assistant came a few minutes later to take the spider off set.

“Araneus,” Draco said to the spider in his most serious voice, “Your performance in the maxi challenge had us all caught in your web. However, your look on the runway was just...threadbare. I’m sorry, my dear, but this is not your time. Now, sashay away.” With that, he gently eased the spider into the jar proffered by the assistant, who carried it away.

—

An hour later, RuPaul entered the werkroom. “Hey there, Kitty Girls! How are things in your Wonder of the World?”

RuPaul stopped by a few other queens’ work stations before sidling up to Draco’s.

“So, Draco!”

“Hello Ru!”

“Tell me, is this going to be your Wonder of the World look?” He gestured toward the dress Draco was pinning to his dress form.

“It’s part of it.” 

“Hmm, I see a sky-blue bodice...grass-green skirt...is this going to be something a little close to home for you?”

“It’s going to be very close to home, I assure you,” Draco answered.

“What is home for you?” RuPaul asked.

“Well, I grew up in the British countryside, in Wiltshire, just a stone’s throw away from the best henge in all the world, ” Draco informed him.

“Really? The best henge?” RuPaul asked in delighted amazement.

“The best,” Draco repeated. “All those other henges are utter rubbish.”

RuPaul laughed. “I see! And you have some metal plates over here,” he picked one off the work table. “Is this going to be a stone?”

“Indeed! These are all going to be fixed in a circle, and you’ll see Stonehenge as it’s meant to be seen, complete and pristine.”

RuPaul nodded, then changed the topic. “Now, a little bird told me that you have a daughter now.”

Draco smiled. “Yes, I do! I have two.”

“Two?” RuPaul looked impressed. “I heard about a spider,” he prompted.

“Araneus. But she’s now retired from drag.” 

“And your other daughter?”

“That’s Ursa Minor.” Draco pointed up to the top shelf of the storage unit next to his costume rack, where the stuffed koala sat and modeled a long, white-blonde wig.

RuPaul laughed. “Courtney Act must be so proud.”

“Yes, of course! Though she owes me for child support, that deadbeat.”

RuPaul doubled over in laughter. “It’s always the children who suffer most when a drag family splits up,” he noted in mock seriousness. “Now there’s something I’d like to know about you. You’ve only been doing drag for a very short time, but I can tell that you are a very creative person. How did you express your creativity before you discovered drag?”

“Creativity wasn’t a formal part of my education,” Draco admitted. “But I found ways to express myself by writing songs and designing fashion accessories. I was particularly proud of my badges.” 

—Confessional—

Draco pointed to a few badges pinned to his grey button-down shirt.

“I designed these badges when I was in school,” he explained. He pointed to each one in turn. “This one says ‘Support Cedric Diggory,’ that was my first one.”

“Who is Cedric Diggory?” The production assistant asked from behind the camera.

“He was a champion athlete at school. Now this one says ‘Weasley Is Our King’ — he was another athlete, I guess. But this one is my favorite — the ‘I’ stands for ‘Inquisitorial Squad.’ That was a club I helped start. I like this badge for the clean, elegant lines.”

“Can you talk about the masks you made?”

Draco’s smile fell and his eyes darted around. “Who told you that?!”

Draco’s mask designs had been his crowning artistic achievement as a teenager. Not only were they each individual masterpieces of design, but for a brief moment they had helped him win the very rarely bestowed respect of his father and the Dark Lord.

After his fourth year at Hogwarts, when the Dark Lord had risen again, Draco had been given this opportunity over his summer holiday to design masks for new Death Eaters. His designs had been so popular that the original Death Eaters wanted him to make them new masks, too. 

And, thankfully, they had let him redesign their robes, too. Draco felt he had made a difference there as well. He hadn’t been allowed to design anything too extravagant, but at least they let him get rid of those ridiculously stupid conical hoods.

But he couldn’t be proud of any of that anymore, so he focused his pride on the badges instead.

“Yes, I designed a series of masks, too,” he said dully when the assistant refused to answer. “But I do love my badges.”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

The Bent Unicorn was eerily quiet. Draco had completely forgotten about that moment in the interview, and cringed to see it on screen, especially now that she was in a large room surrounded by people who knew exactly what those masks had been about. The wig of snakes weighed heavily on her head despite the lightening charm.

Harry seemed to sense her discomfort and slipped his hand around hers. She gave him a weak smile in return.

Draco’s eyes then searched the room. A few pub patrons shot her dirty looks, but more people kept their focus on the screen or away from her. She looked to see if the hooded figure from the previous week had come back. There they were, sitting in an otherwise empty corner, looking down.

“You guess I was an athlete?!” Ron Weasley broke the tension by crying out dramatically from across the table they were sitting at. “I inspire your bloody badges and a song, and it’s like you can’t even remember why you did it!”

—

The camera ended the interview and panned back to the werkroom, where an excited look flashed over Draco’s eyes. “Will we ever win badges as prizes on this show?” he asked RuPaul.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for the chance to win drag-related gifts or cash prizes instead,” RuPaul replied dryly.

“I suppose that will have to do,” Draco sniffed in mock disappointment.

RuPaul laughed. “Well, Draco, I’ll leave you to it,” he finished, and headed over to Goldie’s work table.

—

Draco was washing his hands in the loo when Kali entered and smiled at him through the mirror.

“Hey, Draco.”

Draco nodded to him in greeting.

“So...are you a wizard?”

Draco froze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“My aunt is a witch,” Kali said. “So I know a little bit about the magical world. Owls sending letters, people suddenly losing memories — kinda sounds familiar, you know?” He flashed Draco a wide grin.

Draco dried his hands on a paper towel and said nothing. It never occurred to him that he might meet a muggle who knew about magic during the competition. He didn’t need this kind of complication in his life.

“I get that you have to keep it on the down-low, so I covered for you in the van earlier.” Kali leaned against the wall nonchalantly. 

“You can do what you want,” Draco told him. He threw away the towel and crossed his arms. “I don’t need you to cover for me. You’ve had your memory modified once before, and it could happen again if you tell other people about it.”

Kali scoffed. “Why would I want to out you? I’m here if you need someone to talk to who knows your secret.”

Draco could sense what was coming next. His inner Slytherin detector was beeping madly in the back of his mind.

“But maybe you and I could help each other out,” Kali continued. He pushed away from the wall and moved forward to stand just a few inches away from Draco. 

“I’ve been having some trouble getting my costume to hold together,” Kali whispered. “Maybe you could take a look at it, and maybe...zap it so it stays in one piece?”

This. This was exactly why purebloods didn’t like muggleborns entering the wizarding world. They inevitably told their families, who inevitably wanted favors in exchange for keeping their secrets. It was blackmail, pure and simple, and it threatened everything. 

“Let me get this straight,” Draco responded. “You’re asking me to cheat in the competition by fixing your costume for you, and do magic in plain sight of the cameras and everyone else, which means breaking the law and risking a prison sentence. All so I can have someone to talk to,” he seethed bitterly.

“I wouldn’t put it like that—”

“Shove off,” Draco sneered, and pushed past him and out of the restroom. He returned to his table in the workroom and vented his anger by hammering away at his metal henge construction.

—

Eventually, it was time for the queens to get into drag and present their three runway looks for the Ball.

“First Up! Category is…Beach Blanket Realness!” RuPaul announced. 

One by one, the queens strutted down the runway in their swimsuits. The fishier queens like Lorena, Steve, and Goldie opted for bikinis that showed off their figures. The “pageant queens,” Paris and Acacia, made a big show of wearing multiple cover-ups that they tore away until they were wearing sequined one-piece suits. Kali, Venus, and Intoxia opted for vintage pinup looks. Lady Cakes and Ivana both camped up their looks — Lady Cakes by wearing flip-flops and a horridly loud swimming cap with a striped suit that made her look like a giant beach ball, and Ivana by wearing a knee-length, ruffled rubber suit that would have been legal beach attire one hundred years ago.

Draco strutted down the runway in a burqa. 

“From the beaches of Afghanistan,” RuPaul drawled. 

“Wait, I thought you warned her not to wear the beach blanket?” Michelle asked.

“That’s SPF one thousand!” Carson Kressley interjected.

—Confessional—

“For my beach blanket realness look, I’m going for practical attire,” Draco explained. “The sun is not my friend, so it’s important to cover up.”

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, I do not have anything to do with these runway decisions,” RuPaul added, “so please don’t send me any hate mail about cultural appropriation.”

Halfway down the runway, Draco tore off the burqa to reveal a minuscule string bikini with an iridescent opal sheen. She wore matching stiletto heels and long, curly blonde hair that fell loosely down her shoulders, but the most striking element of this look was that she had painted her skin from head to toe a bright, deep shade of fuchsia.  

She held a large bottle of aloe in one hand and pantomimed rubbing some of it onto her shoulder, wincing as she did so.

—Confessional—

“And my look is also demonstrating what would happen if I didn’t cover up. Consider this a public service announcement for my pale brethren,” Draco continued. “Don’t neglect your skin!”

—

“This is how I know it’s tomato season,” Carson said.

“She manages to make sunburn look sexy!” added special guest judge Janet Jackson.

—

“Let’s keep this ball rolling! Category is...Sexy Vacation Realness!” RuPaul announced.

For a lot of the queens, this challenge seemed to imply fairly pedestrian outfits and belts with oddly shaped little bags on them. Intoxia and Goldie both wore giant mouse ears. 

Draco entered the runway wearing a tight khaki button-down shirt, matching shorts, high-heeled hiking boots, and a pith helmet. She held up a pair of binoculars and looked through them at the judges as she walked forward.

“Honey, you padded!” Michelle exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!” Draco smiled. She had opted to use the pads she’d bought when she first started working on her drag, with the result that she had an uncharacteristically curvaceous silhouette. 

At the end of the runway, she turned her back to the judges. 

“Somebody’s got a stowaway!” Carson jeered.

“It’s Ursa Minor!” RuPaul cried in delight. 

Underneath Draco’s pith helmet was a light-brown wig pulled into a loose braid down her back. She had attached Courtney Act’s stuffed koala to the braid so Ursa Minor was indeed along for the ride, complete with her own matching outfit, braid, and pith helmet.

“It’s behind you, sweetie!” Michelle called out as Draco pretended to look around the stage through her binoculars, seemingly oblivious to the koala on her back.

“The koala’s coming from inside the house,” Carson quipped. Michelle groaned.

“Not without my daughter,” RuPaul said as Draco returned to the back of the runway.

—

“Category is...the Wonders of the World!” RuPaul announced.

Acacia, Intoxia, Steve, and Goldie each trotted out on the runway dressed as the Statue of Liberty.

“Statue she betta don’t!” RuPaul cried.

“Who wore it better?” Carson wondered. 

Of the four looks, Acacia had the most elaborate, modeling a completely beaded turquoise gown and scintillating rhinestone crown. Goldie had created a more anime-oriented take on the statue, painting her face with comically large eyes and wearing a costume sculpted out of papier-maché. Intoxia’s and Steve’s outfits looked less impressive by comparison. Steve’s in particular looked like a roughly hewn poncho. 

Paris had chosen the Sphinx and made a glittering gold dress with paw-shaped mittens, a tail, and a lavish headdress. She had even styled her makeup to look like a chunk had been taken out of her nose. Lady Cakes had similarly gone for an Egyptian look, but designed a pyramid-shaped dress that flared out from her neck.

Other queens’ looks were a little more varied. Lorena had constructed a dress that looked like the Eiffel Tower. Venus took a risk on the Christ the Redeemer statue, genderbending the otherwise masculine look with over-the-top makeup, hair, nails, and a sequined white robe. Ivana had attempted to portray a wonder of the natural world by creating a dress inspired by the Aurora Borealis, but the execution left something to be desired. The result was a dark blue tube-shaped dress upon which she had painted swirls of green and purple, paired with an emerald green wig. 

Kali, meanwhile, had clearly struggled with the corn she had chosen. She had to walk carefully down the runway because the husks were loosely glued to her skirt and spray-painted black. The result was a very stiff knee-length skirt and a top that appeared to be irritating her skin as the husks rubbed her shoulders and turned them black. A black cornucopia wobbled precariously on her head.

When it was her turn, Draco gracefully glided down the runway. Her ball gown was strapless in a shade of sky-blue satin patterned with white crystals and a full-circle skirt in grass-green crepe. Her wig was fashioned into rosebud-braid buns at the back of her head accented with small crystals, but what really stood out on her head was the large golden headband with beams radiating outward in a halo like a sunburst. It, too, was decorated with crystals to give it extra shine.

The pièce de resistance was her take on Stonehenge. Individual stones, fashioned from the metal plates, had been sautered onto the stiff wire into a large circle near the base of her floor-length skirt and spray-painted with silver glitter. The circle was attached to the skirt by means of two cords that hung from a belt of silver tea roses around her waist. Around her neck was a necklace that echoed the pattern of standing stones as a smaller, crystal henge.

“This queen is stoned on the runway!” RuPaul declared.

“Glitterhenge!” Michelle added.

When she got to the end of the runway, Draco removed the cords from her belt and lifted the henge up to waist height. She began to spin, moving faster and faster until the skirt rose up into a rippling field of green perpendicular to her body. Underneath was now visible a pair of nude pumps and a flawless tuck.

—Confessional—

“I’m giving you Stonehenge as it was meant to be seen,” Draco said. “This is no pile of fallen rocks, but a vibrant work of art.”

—

Draco spun in place for a few more moments before falling to her knees in front of the judges, holding up the henge at eye level so her face beamed at them from a stone archway. 

Janet Jackson oohed and applauded. “I see, Stonehenge really does keep track of the time! When Draco’s on her knees, it must be solstice,” she said.

Carson added, “My stones tell me when it’s time to get on my knees, too.”

—

“Welcome, ladies!” RuPaul addressed the queens as they lined up at the front of the stage. “Based on your three ball looks, I’ve made some decisions. When I call your name, please step forward,” she instructed. 

“Intoxia Madison, Venus Flygirl, Lady Cakes McMansion, Draco, Acacia Davenport: you are all safe. You may leave the stage.”

Draco sighed in relief. Four weeks into the show, and she was finally safe! She filed backstage to the Untucked Lounge with the other safe queens.

—

In the Untucked Lounge, Draco quietly kept to herself while the other safe queens discussed who was likely going to be in the bottom. Now that she was safe, Draco’s mind reeled back to the pending court case before the Wizengamot and Kali’s attempt to get her to use magic to help her with her costume.

“Kali’s going to be in the bottom, I’m sure of it. That corn outfit was hideous!” Acacia declared.

“I know, right? What the fuck was she thinking, making corn a wonder of the world?!” Venus laughed. She stroked her Christ the Redeemer beard, which was covered in blue glitter.

Draco sipped her cocktail. Maybe Kali had been desperate for help. That still didn’t give her the right to ask for a favor the way she had.

“I think Steve is going to be in the bottom, too,” Intoxia said. “Her Statue of Liberty was a total mess.” She adjusted her own Liberty crown, as if to prove hers the superior look. Acacia raised an eyebrow at her from under her own, more elaborate Lady Liberty crown.

Draco wondered what sort of lawyer Harry had found to defend him. Could they stand up against Clearwater? Who would the Wizengamot feel more sympathetic towards? The Malfoy name in general wasn’t as popular as it once was before the war. Draco had made out with the lesser sentence, but still, it had been quite a feat of legal wrangling to talk the Wizengamot down from the lifetime sentence in Azkaban that they had initially planned for Lucius.

“So who do you think’s in the top?” Acacia asked.

“Paris and Goldie, definitely,” Venus decided. “Did you see Goldie’s Anime Statue of Liberty? That was fierce — I mean, no offense,” she added quickly, realizing she was talking to two other queens who had chosen the same world wonder. 

Draco wondered what would happen if the Wizengamot decided that she couldn’t use Malfoy as a name anymore. Would it just be a ban on professional use? Could she still sign her name as Draco Malfoy on legal documents? Would she need to sit through some complicated ritual designed to magically erase the name from her existence? Would they obliviate her?

“You’ve been quiet,” Lady Cakes said to her as the others kept discussing the queens’ rankings in the challenge. “Are you pissed because you weren’t in the top three this week?”

Draco rattled the ice in her mostly empty glass. “Cheers,” she said as an answer.

“Right, that means something else to you Brits, huh?” Lady Cakes laughed. “For what it’s worth, your Stonehenge look was stunning.” She nodded towards the corner where Draco had stashed her henge.

Draco smiled. “Thanks — I really like your pyramid, too.”

The other queen smiled. “You still look like you’re sad about something. Need a magical black woman to help you fix your shit?”

Draco’s head shot up in surprise. “What?”

Lady Cakes laughed. “You know, like in the movies. When white people have problems, and a black person swoops in to save the day?”

“I must have been watching all the wrong movies.” Actually, the only movie Draco had ever seen was something Harry had taken him to. It had been loud with a lot of fast-moving vehicles and explosions.

“Yeah, boo, we know,” Lady Cakes laughed. “We oughta make a list of all the movies you need to see.”

Happy for the distraction, Draco pulled a small notebook and pen from out of the top of her dress and opened the book to a page in the middle, prepared to take notes. “Go on,” she said. 

Lady Cakes stared at Draco for a moment, then scoffed. “Okay, first, how in the hell did you fit those down your top? They’re bigger than your tits.” Draco shrugged. Lady Cakes shook her head. “Second, why are you carrying pen and paper in your dress?”

Draco threw her a nonchalant half-shrug. “I occasionally take notes,” she said. 

“Notes.”

“Yes, notes. For things I want to look up later.” Draco jotted down a few words and looked back at Lady Cakes. By now they had caught the attention of the other three queens.

Acacia looked over her shoulder and cackled. “Oh my god, you actually wrote down ‘magical black women?!’”

“What’s wrong with that? I’m intrigued.”

“Now I’m really curious,” Lady Cakes said. “What else do you have in there?”

Draco shut the book and pursed her lips.

“I promise not to laugh,” Lady Cakes added. 

Draco hesitated, then finally decided that she didn’t have anything in the book that would violate the Statute of Secrecy, and handed it over. Lady Cakes took the book and began reading.

“Hmm,” she said, “You have a page labeled ‘US Culture’ and underneath it you’ve written ‘Taco Tuesday,’ ‘Dad Bod,’ ‘Red Carpet Event,’ and ‘Hash Fag: ask Intoxia?’” Lady Cakes looked over to Intoxia. “What’s a hash fag?” 

Intoxia looked baffled. “I have no clue. Where did you hear that from?”

“RuPaul says it all the time,” Draco said in her defense. A pregnant silence ensued.

Suddenly, Venus burst out laughing. “Hash TAG, Draco! Hash tag, not hash fag.” Intoxia and Acacia also started to laugh.

Draco felt her cheeks heat up and closed her eyes, trying to remind herself why she shouldn’t hex the muggles. She didn’t think that a tag made any more sense in this context.

Lady Cakes shook her head. “No, no, come on, this is a safe space. Don’t laugh,” she said.

She flipped to another page. “Under ‘Social Issues,’ you have ‘Woke (Adjective),’ ‘Talk-Sick Masculinity,’ ‘Cultural Approposition,’ and, um, what? ‘White Noise / White Privilege: are they related? How do they see sound?’” 

Lady Cakes looked at Draco over the notebook and raised her eyebrows. Draco made a noncommittal gesture. It seemed like a perfectly valid question. For all she knew, muggles had some way to see noises in different colors. Maybe it was a privilege to see white noise. 

“This is the most fascinating book I’ve ever read. Under ‘Technology,’ you have ‘Chair strap,’” Lady Cakes continued, then squinted. “‘One must fasten a chair strap while riding in an artmobile.’ What’s an artmobile?”  

“You know, that thing,” Draco waved her hand in the air. “It takes us to and from the hotel.”

Lady Cakes pursed her lips and tilted her head up to look at the ceiling.

—Confessional—

“I know I shouldn’t laugh,” she chuckled. “I promised I wouldn’t laugh. But dear lord, I think Carmelita might have been right about Draco being from another planet.”

—

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop anyone else from laughing. Letting Lady Cakes look at her notebook now ranked at the top of Draco’s long list of regrets in life.

“Hey, I like it!” Venus declared. “We make art. We should get around in an artmobile. I’m calling it that from now on.”

Draco wished the judges would bloody well hurry up with judging the unsafe queens so they would come back and distract the room from Draco’s muggle studies notes. 

“Here,” Lady Cakes handed back the notebook. “Take notes, ‘cuz Mama Cakes is gonna explain some things to you.”

Draco hadn’t realized just how much time the safe queens had to kill in the lounge during judging. Venus, Intoxia, and Acacia stepped out for a smoke break while Draco took notes from Lady Cakes. It had been a bit embarrassing, but her curiosity won out.

“Next to ‘Magical black women,’ just write ‘All black women are magical,’” Lady Cakes instructed. 

“You really think so?” Draco asked, lips quirked in a smirk.

“Just write it down,” Lady Cakes repeated. “All black women are magical.”

Draco shrugged and wrote it down, though she kept in in quotes. Muggles, thinking they were magical! Draco imagined Batty Auntie Bella rolling over in her grave at the notion. Her smirk widened into a broad grin.

—

Eventually, the unsafe queens stumbled back into the Untucked lounge and sank into the sofa with their cocktails.

“They didn’t think my cornpunk concept was wonderful enough,” sighed Kali. She shot a side eye at Draco, who made a point of ignoring her.

After a few more minutes of discussing the judges’ critiques, Steve left the group, her bottom lip quivering, and went over to a vanity and tore off her liberty crown. Draco didn’t feel like being a part of the larger discussion anymore, so she got up to talk to her instead.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked.

Steve looked up at her and sniffled. “Just peachy,” she muttered. “I’m probably going home tonight.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know I can’t sew,” Steve mumbled. “But I tried my best. I’m just too dumb to get it right.”

Draco considered Steve appraisingly. In some ways, the queen was like a much prettier, effeminate version of Crabbe or Goyle. Neither of them had ever been terribly intelligent, and they were aware of it. One of the reasons why they had put up with so much from Draco over the years was because he had helped them work around their limitations and find other ways to succeed at what they wanted.

“So what if you can’t sew? You were obviously brought here because you have other strengths. You’re one of the fishiest queens I’ve ever met, for one,” she pointed out. True, Draco had only ever met fourteen queens, but of those, Steve was definitely one of the fishiest.

The edge of Steve’s lip quirked up slightly at that. She still looked defeated, so Draco wracked her brain for something else to say. Her eyes landed on Ursa Minor, perched on her shelf, still wearing a miniature safari outfit and pith helmet.

“Did you know that koalas have one of the smallest brains in proportion to its body size of any animal?” Draco asked. “It’s literally one of the dumbest animals in the world. So, whenever you’re feeling like you’re not good enough, just remind yourself that at least you’re smarter than a koala.” She flashed her most charming smile.

Steve giggled.

“Come on, I bet you’re a champion lip syncer. Let’s go over your plan for this song, just in case.”

—

Eventually, the queens were all called back to the stage. Paris, Goldie, Lorena, Steve, Kali, and Ivana stood in the front.

“Paris Davenport, condragulations! You are the winner of this week’s challenge,” RuPaul told her. Paris cried into her Sphinx paws in her joy. “You have won an all-expenses-paid Caribbean cruise through Gayze Abroad Travel Company.” 

Paris squealed and jumped up and down excitedly. RuPaul told her to join the others at the back of the stage.

Goldie and Lorena were both safe, leaving Steve, Kali, and Ivana as the bottom three. They each faced RuPaul nervously.

“Steve Donovan, you are safe.” Steve fell to her knees and sobbed. Kali and Ivana both sighed in resignation. Draco couldn’t help the small smile at seeing Kali in the bottom two.

After Steve went to the back of the stage, Ivana and Kali lip synced to a song about a Rhythm Nation. Black corn husks exploded around the stage.

—Confessional—

“Kali’s dancing so hard, the stage looks like someone blew up a Hot Topic in the middle of Buttfuck, Iowa,” Venus narrated.

—

In the end, Ivana Mann sashayed away. She gave a slightly tearful goodbye after Kali Sister, equally tearfully, joined the rest of the queens at the back. Draco tried not to scowl, but the camera managed to pick up on a faint look of displeasure.

—At the Viewing Party—

“What was that about?” Harry asked. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Draco answered. She looked around the room. The hooded figure had once again left the pub before the end of the show, so Draco couldn't find out who it was. She would just have to wait until next week.

—

Sneak Peek for Episode 5:

“This week, for your main challenge, you will be putting on a cooking show!” RuPaul informed them.

—

When it was her turn on the set, Draco grabbed a saucepan and placed it on the stove. 

“Welcome to Draco’s kitchen!” she spoke to the camera. “Today, I’m going to show you how to make a basic hangover potion.” 

—

Two men rolled a large screen into the Untucked lounge. Draco didn’t look up. She had seen enough Untucked episodes from previous seasons to get the gist that these moments were usually about some queen’s parent or boyfriend leaving a message to let her know how much they loved her. Draco sighed, not really feeling in any sort of mood to support some other queen getting this type of love. Her own life was too complicated for that now.

“Is that really the camera?” Draco gasped at the all-too-familiar voice. “Oh! How novel!” Draco clasped both hands over her mouth as she stared at the screen in shock.

Chapter Text

—Early on the day of the Viewing Party—

Draco was reading on the sofa at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place when a silver panther patronus burst through the wall and sat down on the coffee table in front of him. It rolled its eyes before speaking in Dean Thomas’ voice.

“Check your Twitter messages. Mariah says you’re at the center of a flame war.”

Flame. War. Those were two words that should never go together. The latest issue of Witch Weekly fell from Draco’s fingers. His face drained of all color. He looked apprehensively at his phone where it laid on the table next to the dissipating patronus, its cheerful pink kitten case failing to soothe him.

Draco turned startled eyes to look at Harry, who was cuddled next to him on the sofa. “Harry, there’s a flame war. What do I do?”

Harry acknowledged Draco’s apprehension with a nod and automatically slid into Heroic Saviour Mode. He picked up Draco’s phone and held it out to Draco. “Give me your finger so I can unlock it.”

Draco eyed the device apprehensively. After some hesitation, he very carefully placed his finger on the lock screen as if he might get burned in the process.

Harry looked back down at Draco’s unlocked phone, then frowned. “Which one of these is Titter again?”

“The one with the bird. Blue and white.” Draco got up and paced the living room floor. Mispronunciation aside, Harry grew up around muggles. He had a phone and a laptop. Maybe he would know what to do.

After a minute, Draco looked back at Harry, who was still frowning at the phone. He must have at least opened the app, because he appeared to be scrolling.

“‘I LUV TACOS LOL,’” Harry read aloud. “There’s another post that just has a question mark,” he said. “Here’s one that’s an ad for shoes. Merlin’s beard, this is just a stream of meaningless junk! How is anyone supposed to make any sense of it?”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know! I just learned how to post and check my number of followers!” He wrung his hands. Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait, Thomas said to check the direct messages.”

Harry must have navigated to the right screen for that, because his frown deepened. Draco’s panic increased.

“Harry, you don’t want to read ninety percent of these messages.”

Harry scrolled through the messages anyway. “Lots of photos of blokes holding up twenty-pound notes,” he said, making a face, then looked appraisingly at a dick pic. 

“Not bad, I guess. This one’s better, though. What do you think?” Harry held up another pic for Draco to assess. “At least you’re getting some free porn out of it,” he laughed. “I guess I can’t blame other guys for thinking you’re hot. But they can’t have you,” he purred.

“Yes, of course, you’re the only man for me. But now is so not the time to get distracted by cock! Have you forgotten that there’s a flame war ?!” Draco cried as he continued to pace. “We don’t know the full extent of what muggles can do with this technology! What if the flames start shooting out of the phone? There are too many flammables in this house!” 

Draco darted his eyes around the living room, as if expecting the drapes to suddenly catch fire, and whipped out his wand in preparation to cast Aguamenti when necessary. 

Harry shook his head and returned to Heroic Saviour Mode, renewing his effort to solve the problem.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Harry Potter, the Official Saviour of the Wizarding World and Boy Who Lived For Dick Pics, was no match for Twitter. Draco started to wonder if Harry had only reconnected with muggle technology in the first place so he could text and play games with his godson, Teddy. At this point, Draco was probably more knowledgeable about social media. Of all the things Draco had ever expected to beat Harry in, he never would have expected it to be anything muggle.

Harry got up with a determined look on his face and reached for Draco. He heroically apparated them to Best of Both Worlds.

“Dean! Mariah!” Harry called out, rushing heroically into the storefront, pulling Draco by the hand. He thrust Draco’s phone onto the counter. “We got your message. What do we do?!”

—

As it turned out, the flame war was not what Draco had feared. Instead of facing death by fire, he had been sat him down with a calming draught while Dean Thomas explained that trolls on Twitter were posting racist tweets bashing queens of color on the show and saying they wanted Draco to win Drag Race.

“Trolls?!” Draco was baffled. “I didn’t know they could read, let alone use the internet.”

“Internet trolls,” Mariah told him. “They’re just humans, but they act like arseholes when they’re online because they can hide behind their computers.”

“So, what? They’re using me as an excuse to beat down on my drag sisters?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t get racism,” he muttered. “Of all the things to judge someone for, why pick skin color?”

Dean and Mariah exchanged a look.

Harry cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation back on track. “So, how do we address this situation?”

Within an hour, Draco had posted tweets condemning the attacks and supporting his sisters, and set Mariah Thomas up as his social media manager. He would pay extra for the service, but it was worth it to have someone else sift through the noise in order to stay on top of the important messages. Besides, Draco had started getting more paying gigs at muggle drag shows around the country, and had even had some modeling and advertising offers in the last week. He could afford to outsource some of the online work.

—Beginning Episode 5—

After Ivana Mann’s elimination, the queens reentered the werkroom. Draco removed the henge from her belt and stepped out of the circle, grateful to lose the extra weight from her costume.

“Ivana!” Intoxia Madison cried as she looked at the departed queen’s lipstick message. “I can’t believe she’s gone. She’s such a legend.”

“Yeah, this isn’t going to be the same without her,” Goldie Hanako said.

“‘Be strong,’” Kali Sister read on the mirror, “‘I love you. Don’t give up!’” Aww. Isn’t she the sweetest? I can’t wait to see her again.”

“Do you want her to come back, then?” Acacia Davenport asked.

Kali laughed as she wiped away the message. “Girl, don’t say that! We don’t need any more bitches coming back this season!”

“Girl, for real, you slayed that lip sync,” Paris Davenport told her.

“Being in the bottom really is a mindfuck,” Kali Sister said. “I didn’t realize how much it would mess with me the way it did.”

—Confessional—

“I’m shook,” Kali admitted. “I’m not proud of the way I behaved in that last challenge. I know I’m gonna have to do better this next time around.”

—

—

Draco had resolved to tell Villareal about his conversation with Kali the next morning, when they usually saw each other at the Quidditch park. But she failed to appear this time. Draco flew around the park, feeling the soft Pacific breeze as the early morning sun still sat low in the sky. He cursed softly. When he wanted to be alone, she was there to remind him that he was being watched. Now that he actually wanted to talk to her, she was missing.

He wanted to warn her that Kali knew that he was a wizard and needed to be obliviated. He wanted to find out if there was an update on his case before the Wizengamot. His mind continued to churn, overthinking and wondering what was happening back home. 

This was the day of Draco’s hearing before the Wizengamot. He hasn’t heard any more from Harry, only that he had found a lawyer and they were working on the case. London was eight hours ahead. For all he knew, the case had already been settled and Draco’s fate sealed.

Eventually, he had to apparate back to the hotel and get ready for the day’s shooting.

—

“Hey Draco, can I talk to you for a sec?” Kali asked quietly as they stood in the hotel lobby, waiting for their ride to the studio.

Draco pursed his lips and looked around. The others were far enough away to be beyond hearing range. “Go on.”

“I just wanted to apologize for yesterday,” Kali said quietly. “I was thinking about it last night. My aunt always tells us that we can’t talk about her being a witch because it has to be a secret. I guess there are laws about not doing magic where people can see, huh?” He ran a hand through his long hair and nervously wrapped it into a sloppy bun.

Draco nodded.

“Anyway, I felt pretty shitty for putting you on the spot like that. I should have known better than to ask you to use your magic in front of the cameras.” 

He held up his hand as Draco opened his mouth to speak. “And before you say it, yes, it would have been cheating, and I’m sorry for that, too. I guess I let the competition get to me,” he added sheepishly.

Draco considered him for a moment. Lately, he had been trying this new concept of being nicer to people. In the second week of Drag Race, the other queens in Team Venus had wanted Draco to be sent home. But then, being nice to Lady Cakes by healing his wrists had paid off. Not only had he helped Draco win the Week 3 challenge, but he was helping him understand American muggle culture. For that matter, Steve Donovan had seemed to warm up to Draco after Draco had helped her during Untucked. Maybe niceness could change other queens’ opinions of her.

Besides, he didn’t have the attention span for grudges when he was still preoccupied with his hearing before the Wizengamot. 

“Very well,” he said, “I suppose I can forgive you.”

“Thanks! I swear it won’t happen again.” Kali grinned. “So, what do you think we’ll have to do for this week’s episode? I hope it’s not another sewing challenge!”

Draco was about to respond when Venus Flygirl called out to all the queens in the lobby. 

“All aboard the artmobiles!” The others chuckled. It seemed Draco wouldn’t be living down that particular misunderstanding anytime soon.

—

“Hey Ladies!” RuPaul’s voice called to the queens from the large television screen on the wall after everyone had assembled in the werkroom. “What’cha got cookin’? Every queen worth her salt knows how to cook up a good look. But do you have it in you to really take the cake? Why, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a little something in my lovin’ oven!”

They looked at each other as the screen shut off. 

“We’re not gonna have to eat more chicken, are we?” Lorena Gucci asked in horror.

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul called as he entered the werkroom and descended the stairs in a suit patterned with eggplants over a green button-down shirt.

“For this week’s mini challenge, you’re all going to be models!” RuPaul told them. The queens cheered. “Produce section models, that is.” A few queens shot him saucy looks.

“You will have thirty minutes to get into quick drag and decorate your nails. When it’s your turn, you will be given a piece of fruit to model for the camera. And...GO!”

The queens rushed to the stations to change, then crowded around a table to paint press-on nails.

Draco had opted to wear just a simple button-down blue shirt and grey trousers that day, which allowed him more time to slip into a lilac tank dress, ice-blue wig, and basic makeup. She made it to the nail station before most of the queens descended upon it like locusts in the most chaotic frenzy she had yet experienced on Drag Race.

“Pass me that purple.”

“Who’s got the pink rhinestones?”

“Oh my God, did someone use up all the blue glitter already?!”

One by one, the queens were called forward to model their fruit. 

“Yes, honey, show off those melons!” RuPaul called out to Lady Cakes McMansion as she flashed the camera a suggestive grin and held two cantaloupes in front of her.

Paris ran her fingers up and down a stalk of bok choi. “Yass, you betta sissy that bok!” RuPaul exclaimed.

Draco was given a bunch of grapes. “Ooh, pucker those lips!” RuPaul told her. “Those must be some sour grapes! Werrrrrk!”

—

Afterward, the queens all lined up facing RuPaul, still in their quick drag.

“Ladies, you all really knew how to work that produce — but two of you really stood out: Steve Donovan and Intoxia Madison!” The queens cheered. Intoxia clapped and Steve curtsied.

“This week, for your main challenge, you will be putting on a cooking show!” RuPaul informed them. “This is one of the classic formats of daytime television. Some of the great TV chefs like Julia Child, Paula Deen, and Rachel Ray have been teaching multiple generations of home cooks how to make delicious dishes.

“Now is your chance to join the cutthroat world of culinary television. You will work in two teams of five,” RuPaul continued. “When your team is on the set, you will take turns in front of the camera to demonstrate a recipe for a home audience. Your cooking shows will be directed by our special guest judge: renowned chef, television personality, and bestselling author, Martha Stewart.”

The queens applauded.

“Now, since Steve and Intoxia won the mini challenge, you will serve as team leaders and pick the teammates for your cooking shows.”

Draco was relieved to not have been picked last this time around. Steve picked her right away, followed by Goldie, Paris, and Acacia.

“Well done, ladies!” RuPaul cheered. “Now, Steve’s show will be called ‘Smells Like Fish’ and Intoxia’s will be called ‘Two Piece and a Biscuit.’” Lorena grimaced.

—Confessional—

“I should be on the fish team,” Lorena complained. “Everyone knows I’m the fishiest of any of these bitches!”

—

“Gentlemen, start your engines,” RuPaul concluded, “and may the best woman...win!”

—

Later, the members of Smells Like Fish sat around the sectional sofa and brainstormed ideas.

“How would you define a cooking show?” Draco asked.

“You’ve never seen a cooking show?” Steve asked in disbelief.

“I’ve seen the Great British Bakeoff,” he answered. “But it doesn’t quite fit with what RuPaul was implying.”

“It’s about talking to the audience,” Goldie explained. “You need to talk to the camera and give instructions so people who watch the show know how to make your recipe."

“Sort of like a lesson, then.”

“Yeah!”

“I wanna be the hostess.” The team looked at Acacia in surprise. “You know, like on TV when they bring in a guest chef who shows the TV host how to cook something? That way, we can play off each other and not be on our own in front of the camera.”

“Ooh, I love that idea!” Steve gushed. “You can be like Martha Stewart, and lead the show while the rest of us show you how to make stuff.”

Draco dropped his jaw. 

—Confessional—

“That was an option?” Draco sputtered in disbelief. “I really don’t have hardly any experience cooking. Certainly not enough to teach someone else.” 

At least, not the muggle way. The only recipes he knew well enough to teach anyone were potions. 

—

Draco sighed and tapped a pen on his empty notepad. 

“Whatever we do, we gotta make it funny,” Goldie added. “Maybe one of us could do something like Hair of the Dog for a hangover or something…?”

Hair of the Dog.

“Can I take that one?” Draco piped up. “I think I can do something with it.”

—

“Draco,” one of the production assistants called while Draco was applying makeup in preparation for filming the cooking challenge. He looked up. “Can you come with me, please?”

He frowned in confusion, but put down his brush and stood up. “Yes, of course,” he answered, and followed her out of the werkroom. The other queens looked at each other in confusion.

“What is this about, anyway?” He asked apprehensively as they walked down the hall. He already suspected it had to do with his hearing.

“Wait in here, please,” she merely said in response, gesturing toward an open door into a small conference room. And then she left.

Draco sat at one end of a large table. Framed posters from previous seasons of Drag Race decorated the walls of an otherwise bland, corporate setting. He felt out of place, awkwardly wearing a black silk dressing kimono without a shirt, face covered in contouring makeup patterns and hair taped back. Draco wasn’t wearing enough drag yet to feel like a woman, and too much to feel like his male self. Fluid as his gender expression was, he had never completely gotten comfortable with the in-between.

He waited for another minute or so before the door opened.

“Ah, you’re already here. Good.” It was Heather Villareal, the Auror who had taken a break from meeting him on the San Adra quidditch pitch when he actually wanted to talk to her. She walked in and sat down at the middle of the table, followed by another witch in a royal blue muggle suit. The witch stuck out her hand.

“How do you do, I’m Pernita Simmons,” she said, shaking Draco’s hand. “I’m the defense attorney who was assigned to your case before the Wizengamot.” Draco raised his eyebrows as she laid a thin folder down on the table in front of her and opened it up.

“Nice to meet you, thanks for coming all this way out here,” he said.

Simmons looked apologetically toward him. “I’m afraid there wasn’t much of a trial. Lucius Malfoy’s attorney argued that your disownment bars you from legally using the Malfoy name as a performance alias, and the Wizengamot took his side.”

Draco closed his eyes and held his breath. “What does that mean, exactly?” he asked after a moment.

“You can continue to use your first name in your performances and on this show,” she explained, “But only your first name. You cannot continue to go by Draco Malfoy. The producers of RuPaul’s Drag Race have been notified and will edit their recorded footage accordingly to remove any mentions of the Malfoy name from muggle audiences.”

Draco sighed. So much for his revenge. 

“There’s more, I’m afraid,” Simmons continued. “The prosecution argued that further confusion between the Malfoy name and your drag career necessitates a more...legal separation.” 

Draco’s head snapped up in confusion.

“You can no longer use Malfoy as your name in any context, in or out of drag,” she clarified.

“What?”

“Legally, you are no longer a Malfoy.”

No longer a Malfoy. Draco felt like he had been punched in the stomach. No longer a Malfoy.  

“Your mother has given her permission for you to use her maiden name as your surname,” Simmons explained. “From now on, you may identify yourself to others as Draco Black.”

Draco had trouble making sense of these words over a roaring in his ears. No longer a Malfoy. He had always been a Malfoy. He had been a Malfoy when the name commanded respect in the wizarding community. He had been a Malfoy after the war, when the name inspired hatred among those same people who had previously respected it. Even after being disowned, he had felt entitled to use the name. How could he identify as anyone else?

The overhead lights suddenly flickered. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” he cried, rising from his chair.

“Calm yourself, Draco!” Villareal hissed. She quickly cast wards around the room to prevent more of his accidental magic from escaping.

Calm himself. That was easy enough for her to say. She hadn’t had her name taken away.

“Calm myself,” Draco hissed back. “Do you think it was easy to live up to the expectations of my name? Do you have any idea what I’ve had to do for the Malfoy name?” His fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. He had brought this on himself. If he hadn’t insisted on using his real name to flaunt his drag in front of Lucius, he wouldn’t be in this position now.

“Hmm, is there more besides taking the Dark Mark and joining a criminal gang? Attempted murder of your school principal, serious injuries of your classmates, use of two out of three unforgivable curses?” Villareal waved her hand, unimpressed. “We have quite a file on you already in our department, but I’m always up for a good story. Please feel free to share if there’s more we should know.”

Draco sat heavily back into his seat. Never had he felt so far away from home as he did in this moment. Here he was, on the other side of the planet, far from anyone who could understand or even care. He needed Harry. Harry wouldn’t fully understand the depths of this loss, but he would at least be sympathetic. Merlin, how he missed Harry.

“Well. I’ll have these files delivered to your hotel room,” Simmons said, and got up from the table. She stopped at the door, turning back to him. “I really am sorry.” With that, she was gone.

Draco buried his face in his hands and let out a long, shuddering breath.

—

After taking a few minutes to recover himself, Draco sighed and trudged back to the werkroom. The journey back felt ten times longer than it had when he first left. He fell into his makeup chair with a sigh and picked up a brush. He started applying eyeshadow with a shaky hand, getting it outside the intended area.

“Bugger!” He threw the brush at the mirror. He was still too upset to even keep his exclamations drag relevant.

“Draco?” Lady Cakes paused with an eye pencil in midair and looked at him in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Draco waved his hands and stood up, walking away from the vanity. He paced back and forth, his kimono swishing rapidly as he tried to calm down. 

More of the queens looked over at him now. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked gently. 

The overhead lights flickered. Fuck, Draco thought. Kali looked up to the lights, then at Draco, and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Draco took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before letting it out. 

“I suppose you all need to hear this,” he said. He took another deep breath.

“You know how I’ve been using my real first and last name as my drag name?” A few of the queens nodded. “Well, I can’t do that anymore. My father sued me over it, and he won. So none of you can say my last name from now on. RuPaul’s had to stop saying it, too.”

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry wrapped his arm around Draco’s shoulder comfortingly. “I wish I could have been there with you,” he whispered.

The rest of the pub was deathly quiet. Pansy Parkinson reached over and patted Draco’s arm. Even Granger and Weasley shot him sympathetic glances.

—

“Shit,” Paris breathed.

“What are they gonna do with all the times RuPaul said it on camera already?” Goldie asked. 

“It’s going to be edited out.” Draco closed his eyes. “From now on, I’m just Draco.” He let out a stuttered sigh. There. It was the first time Draco had ever said it out loud.  

“Oh, honey.” Lady Cakes enveloped him in a great bear hug. Suddenly, the rest of the queens piled themselves on as well. Draco had never felt himself the center of such a tight throng of people.

“You know you don’t need a last name, right?” Lady Cakes asked. “How many other Dracos are there?”

“Just dragons and a constellation.” He replied, his voice muffled by Lady Cakes’ shoulder.

“Right. And just one drag queen,” Kali said.

“You’re like RuPaul now!” Steve added. “He doesn’t need a last name, and neither do you.”

Draco blinked rapidly. “Thanks,” he muttered with a shuddering breath. Gradually, the queens pulled away.

“Come on,” Steve tugged on his hand and smiled. “We need to get your makeup finished so you can tell us all how to cure a hangover.”

—

Soon enough, Draco’s makeup was finished and she dressed in a tweed skirt and burnt sienna silk blouse, a honey-blonde wig pulled away from her face in pinned ringlets and starlet curls.

On the set, Acacia interacted with each queen in turn for Smells Like Fish, alternating between chatting with the cooks and asking questions about the steps in the process.

When it was her turn, Draco grabbed a saucepan and placed it on the stove before Acacia turned to the camera.

“Welcome back to Smells Like Fish!” Acacia said. “I’m here with Draco, who’s going to show us how to get rid of a pesky hangover.” Draco smiled at the camera and waved. “Now, what have you got for us?”

“Thanks, Acacia! This is a basic hangover potion that anyone can make at home.” Acacia shot her a bemused look. 

Behind the camera, Michelle Visage and Martha Stewart looked at each other.

“Cut!” Martha said. Draco stopped and looked at her. “Did you say a potion?”

Draco furrowed her brows. Muggles cooked all the time. Did they not use that word? Was it a British versus American term situation?

“Yes,” she answered carefully. “What would you call it in the States?”

Martha and Michelle shrugged at each other. “A remedy, maybe?” Michelle asked.

Draco nodded.

“Start from the top,” Michelle directed.

“Welcome back to Smells Like Fish!” Acacia began again. “Today, I’m here with Draco, who’s going to show us how to make a basic hangover remedy.”

“That’s right, Acacia! Anyone can make this at home! First, you’ll need to bring twelve centilitres of water to a boil.” She poured a pre-measured amount of water into the saucepan, then picked up a cutting board. The studio didn’t have the ingredients needed to make a real hangover potion, but she could pretend.

“Next, add a gram of powdered nutmeg, three diced asphodel leaves, one egg, twelve medium-length dog hairs, and seven millilitres of dittany extract.”

“Oh—okay,” Acacia responded uncertainly. Behind the camera, Michelle and Martha made odd faces, but said nothing. Draco continued. Americans were so weird about the metric system.

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry and Granger buried their faces in their hands simultaneously.

“Oh no,” Granger uttered and looked at Draco in dismay. “You really don’t know what they don’t know, do you?”

—

—Confessional—

Paris shook his head. “Well, this is a hot mess,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Acacia’s confused, Martha Stewart’s confused, Michelle’s confused...honey, we’re all confused.”

—

“Now, it’s important to stir the mixture counterclockwise for exactly thirteen rotations,” Draco continued. “And then you can add your grated smurf. Now, fresh smurf is best, but dried will do if you add another centilitre of water—”

“CUT!” Draco looked to Michelle.

“This is all very creative, but we need to avoid mentioning the Smurfs,” Michelle told him. This time, Draco looked confused. “I don’t think we can get the copyright clearance for that.”

Not mention smurfs? How could anyone make a hangover potion without a smurf? That was the key ingredient, as specified in Gargamel’s Book of Questionable Potions! Everyone knew that! And what in Merlin’s name did she mean by “copyright clearance?”

“Yes. Well, cheers. Erm,” Draco blustered. She looked around, trying to figure out what to do instead. She looked to Acacia for ideas, but Acacia looked equally baffled.

Draco absently played with the knobs on the stove as she wracked her brain to come up with a backup plan. Suddenly, flames jumped up from the burner in front of her. 

She let out a blood-curdling scream and leaped behind Acacia, then swiveled her around and steered her bodily toward the exit.

“Aaaahh, where are we going?” Acacia shrieked. “Why are you pushing me?!”

—Confessional—

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Steve said. “Draco is freaking out, Acacia is freaking out, and me, Paris, and Goldie are looking at each other because none of us know what to do.”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

“Sweet Merlin, you really had a bad day, didn’t you?” Harry whispered.

—

Draco stopped halfway across the set and shook her head. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t in the Room of Requirement, and they weren’t all about to die. This was a muggle studio, albeit one with surprise bursts of fire for some frightening reason.

“We need to wrap this up in five minutes,” Martha warned.

Acacia led Draco back to the kitchen set and turned off the burner. “Good god, get it together, girl.”

“Draco, breathe,” Goldie coached. 

“Can you maybe play up the idea of cooking?” Michelle suggested. “We don’t need to see a step-by-step recipe if you can make us laugh.” 

Draco shook out her jitters and nodded.

“And...Action!”

“Acacia, let’s see what I’ve got in my cauldron,” Draco purred, pointing into the saucepan suggestively and trying to infer as much double entendre as queenly possible. She stirred a wooden spoon and wagged her eyebrows at the camera. She gasped and exclaimed, “Ooh-ooh! It’s my cauldron full of hot, strong love!”

—

That night, Draco made it back to his hotel room and threw himself on the bed, ignoring the file left by Simmons and wishing he could obliviate the entire day from his memory. He wasn’t there for more than five minutes before there was a knock at the door.

Lady Cakes, Goldie, Steve, Venus, Kali, Paris, Acacia, Lorena, and Intoxia all stood in the hallway, grinning.

“Get your shit together, Draco. We’re going out,” Lady Cakes said.

Draco blinked. “Out? Out where?”

“Hollywood!” Goldie answered with an excited little jump.

“We gotta get some sightseeing in while we’re here, don’t you think?” Paris said. “We’ve got our native guide — Miss Venus here —” Venus curtsied. “And we’re gonna see the Chinese Theater, and the Walk of Fame, and most importantly—”

“We’re gonna get drunk!” Steve added. “We’re hitting every gay bar and strip club in town!”

Draco grinned. After the day he’d had, a pub crawl sounded perfect. The queens poured themselves into his room. 

“Make sure you put on good walking shoes, ‘cuz we’re hoofin’ it tonight,” Venus warned.

Lady Cakes groaned and flopped onto Draco’s bed. The mattress quaked underneath him. “Ugh, I really wish they’d let us keep our phones so we could just Uber instead!”

Goldie and Steve pulled out some makeup and started putting it on in Draco’s bathroom mirror. 

“Come on, Girl! We’re doing male street glam. Just a little bit of eye makeup and highlighter,” Goldie said, smearing hot pink eyeshadow above and below her eyes.

Draco took just a few minutes to put on some blue eyeliner that brought out the faint flecks of blue in his silver eyes. He grabbed his wand from the dresser and stuck it up the holster under his sleeve.

“It’s my lucky stick,” he explained when Paris gave him a raised eyebrow. Kali snorted. 

“That’s the stick she gotta take out of her ass so she can lip sync for her life!” Acacia cackled. Draco responded with an eye roll and a rude gesture.

“So...why do you have a broom in your hotel room?” Intoxia asked, pointing at the Nimbus 2001 propped in the corner by the window.

“That’s for when she wants a really lucky stick.” Kali joked. The others laughed.  

“Ha, ha,” Draco said. “It’s a prop. I just haven’t decided if I’m using it in a challenge yet. Well, I’m ready. Are we going, or are we just going to sit around and talk about sticks?”

The next few hours passed in a blur of neon lights, tequila shots, and male go-go dancers. All thoughts about the Wizengamot, his father, the Malfoy name, and the disastrous kitchen challenge faded from Draco’s mind as the night wore on, the queens all laughing and having a good time.

They finished walking along the Walk of Fame, which failed to impress Draco (why would anyone feel honored to have people put their dirty feet all over one’s name?). But he’d had enough tequila by that point that the idea only made him laugh.

“Ladies, if you think you’re gonna barf, please aim for Donald Trump’s star. Thank you,” Venus advised. The other queens all cheered.

Intoxia, despite the name, had turned out to be a lightweight, and threw his arm over Draco’s shoulder as they stumbled out of their last bar. Draco had to half drag him along as they trailed behind the others on the walk back to the hotel.

“I think you’re really hot,” he slurred into Draco’s ear. 

“Thanks,” Draco said. 

“You wanna kai-kai?”

“I’m flattered, but monogamous,” Draco told him.

Intoxia scoffed as best as a stumbling drunk could accomplish. “Aww,” he pouted.

“I’ve already won the sugar daddy lottery.” 

Lorena, who was walking in front of them, turned around and laughed. “How do you get tickets for that?"

Draco was about to respond when they heard an angry voice yell, “All you fags need to get AIDS and die!”

All the queens stopped to look at two men who leaned against a wall as the group was passing them by on the sidewalk. One of the men pushed away from the wall and faced them. He stood menacingly over Goldie, who started to tremble. Goldie, the smallest of all of them, in that moment reminded Draco of a little fish that knew it was mere seconds away from being eaten by a bigger fish.

“For fuck’s sake,” Draco muttered, and handed Intoxia over to Lorena before pushing his way in front of the others. He stood toe-to-toe with the offender, a forty-something man in a ball cap and slovenly tee shirt and jeans, overweight and looking like he wanted to pick on some easy targets so he could feel better about himself.

With the blink of an eye, Draco was no longer Draco the Drag Queen, but Former Death Eater Draco. And regardless of losing the right to legally call himself a Malfoy, he had twenty-five years of pure Malfoy attitude packed behind his icy glare.

“Tell me something,” he sneered, “Are you a tangible threat?” The idiot blinked at him in confusion. He apparently hadn’t expected any of them to actually confront him. His friend remained silent and watched the two of them, smirking.

“I think you’ve picked on the wrong group of fags,” Draco told him quietly, his eyes narrowed. “I have a certain skill set that I’m authorized to use in case I’m faced with a tangible threat. I know ways to make you feel pain beyond anything you’ve imagined. I could make you hurt so badly that you beg for death. And I’ve had a rough day, so I would be absolutely delighted to have a reason to use my skills on a hateful little tosser like you. Just give me a reason.” He flashed his teeth in a sharklike smile. 

Draco and the aggressive man stared at each other, neither backing down. Draco raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. He had his wand in the holster up his sleeve, and he had practiced using it with his other hand through the fabric of his shirt. He wouldn’t even need to get it out to make the idiot regret it. He could plant his hand on the man’s chest and fire a stinging hex without anyone seeing a visible trail of magic. He braced himself to do just that as the bigot started to raise his fist.

“Okay, okay, we’re going to go now,” the bystanding friend interjected, looking between Draco and the nine other queens in their party and apparently deciding the fight wasn’t worth it. He grabbed his friend by the shoulders and swiveling him around. “Sorry, folks. He’s drunk and gonna sleep this off. Enjoy the rest of your evening!” And with that, the two men turned and walked away, leaving the queens alone.

“Holy shit, Draco,” Intoxia breathed after a few moments of silence. He had apparently sobered quickly during the encounter. “You get points in intimidation for that.”

“Yeah, I never would have expected to see you go full Liam Neeson on that fucker,” Venus added.

“Goldie, are you all right?” Draco asked. 

“I’m—I’m fine,” Goldie answered after a moment. He shook himself. “Thank you.”

Draco was unprepared for the tight hug as Goldie threw his arms around him. He gently hugged back. He had never been around so many people who so freely shared platonic affection with each other before he came to Drag Race. He still wasn’t quite used to it, but the more it happened, the more he wondered why he had lived so long without it.

—

The rest of the trip back to the hotel was uneventful. Draco crashed hard for a painfully limited amount of time before having to get up again for Elimination Day. He had never felt more grateful to have doses of hangover potion and pepper-up potion on hand as he did that morning.

The ride to the studio and the werkroom chatter that day was uneventful as the rest of the queens quietly recovered from the previous night’s adventures.

The runway theme that week was Parisian Chic. Draco had opted for a full-length art deco-style gown embroidered with golden peacock feathers and a line of silk roses along the bottom hem. She had styled her wig into an elaborate French twist.

—

After reach queen walked the runway, they lined up at the front of the stage.

“Welcome, ladies!” RuPaul addressed them. “The judges and I watched your cooking shows, and I’ve made some decisions. This week, you worked in teams, but tonight on the runway you will each be judged individually. 

“When I call your name, please step forward. Lady Cakes McMansion, Venus Flygirl. Condragulations, you are both the winners of this week’s challenge.”

They hugged each other and sighed in relief. 

“You’ve each won one thousand dollars and a year’s supply of corn dogs from Bitch on a Stick — where it’s a total sausage party, and everyone’s invited! Paris Davenport, Goldie Hanako, Kali Sister.” The three queens stepped forward.

“You are all safe. You may leave the stage.” Kali looked especially relieved and bowed to RuPaul. One by one, all five of the safe queens filed offstage to the Untucked lounge.

“Now, for the rest of you, it’s time for the judges’ critiques.” Acacia, Draco, Steve, Intoxia, and Lorena exchanged nervous looks.

Acacia was grilled for not actually cooking anything, and failing to be entertaining.

“It was a total snooze,” Michelle complained. “Girl, you were flatlining out there.”

Steve, on the other hand, received criticism for her failure to lead the group — partly by letting Acacia get away without cooking anything, and partly for not doing a better job to control the train wreck that was Draco’s part of the act. It seemed unfair to Draco, but Steve then received high praise for her eighteenth-century Parisian courtesan look on the runway.

Intoxia and Lorena were praised for their looks. The judges didn’t have much to say about their cooking segments on Two Piece and a Biscuit.

“Draco,” Michelle said once the judges shifted attention to her, “Tonight on the runway, you look great. That cooking skit, though.” She shook her head slowly. “It was all over the map. It didn’t make any sense to me.”

“I was definitely getting a Sharon Needles vibe the way you were talking about potions and cauldrons,” Special Guest Judge Snoop Dogg added. “It would have helped if you dressed the part and made a total witch of yourself, though.”

“I just thought you looked like a 1940s secretary,” Martha Stewart added. “It didn’t seem to go with what you were saying. It’s just unfortunate, since you look so beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you, Ladies,” RuPaul said, “While you untuck backstage, the judges and I will deliberate.”

—

“All right, just between us squirrel friends, what do you think of Draco’s performance?" RuPaul asked the other judges.

“I was really confused,” Snoop Dogg said. “When she showed up in that outfit I was expecting some type of period performance, but then she was serving this kind of ‘fantasy witch meets drunk culture’ vibe with her hangover potion and made-up ingredients. And then she got a little slutty about it towards the end.”

“I’m surprised that part would bother you,” Martha interjected. The others laughed.

“No bother, but the whole thing was just one confusing mess.”

“Right, it was super confusing!” Michelle exclaimed. “What she said made no sense.” 

“But you know who else made no sense?” RuPaul asked. “Tammie Brown. And people love her.”

“You think Draco might go walking children in nature?” Michelle raised an eyebrow.

—

Meanwhile, in the Untucked lounge, Draco glumly sipped her cocktail and mulled over her limited options. It seemed clear that she would be lip syncing that week, based on the judges’ critiques. The others seemed to agree as they debated who would be in the bottom two, undecided between Steve and Acacia.

Draco had entered Drag Race with no intentions of actually trying to win. His primary objective had been to get enough public attention to shame his father for disowning him. His presence on the muggle show alone was enough to accomplish that. 

But she would have been kidding herself if she thought that she was immune to the lure of the competition. Prior to this week, she didn’t feel the need to win, but she definitely didn’t want to lose.

Now, however, nothing seemed to matter. Draco was no longer a Malfoy. It was impossible to think past that.

Two men rolled a large screen into the Untucked lounge. Draco didn’t look up. She had seen enough Untucked episodes from previous seasons to get the gist that these moments were usually about some queen’s mother or boyfriend leaving a message to let her know how loved she was. Draco sighed, not really feeling in any sort of mood to support some other queen getting this type of love. Her own life was too complicated for that now.

“Is that really the camera?” Draco gasped at the all-too-familiar voice. “Oh! How novel!” Draco clasped both hands over her mouth as she stared at the screen in shock.

“Hello, Draco,” Narcissa called. “I just want you to know that in spite of everything that has happened, you are still my son, you will always be my son, and I love you.”

Draco barely registered the hands of queens on either side of her reaching out to touch her shoulders.

“More than that,” she continued, “I have never been more proud of you. You are forging a new life for yourself on your own terms, in what must be a terribly unfamiliar landscape. You are brave and you are strong. And I want you to know that you are not alone,” she smiled.

The camera panned out to reveal that Narcissa was sitting on a sofa next to Draco’s Aunt Andromeda, who smiled and waved. Next to her was Teddy, practically bouncing in his seat, smiling and waving as hard as he could from underneath a turquoise bouffant. And next to him was Harry — Harry, who continued to stun Draco with his unflagging love and support. 

“Good luck, Draco!” Teddy shouted exuberantly. “You can do it!”

“Show them what we already know and love about you, Draco!” Andromeda added.

“You’ve got this,” Harry winked at him. “Love you with all my heart, Draco!”

And with that, the screen switched off. Draco was practically vibrating. She barely registered that a few tears had slipped past her eyes. 

“Draco, are you okay?” Goldie asked, placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder and handing him a tissue.

“I thought she would never speak to me again,” Draco admitted quietly.

“Oh, Sweetie,” Venus murmured, with more tenderness than Draco had ever heard from her.

“It was my father who disowned me,” Draco explained, “but my mother — I never expected her to go against him...or even to record a video. You have no idea how surprising that is.”

Lady Cakes smiled softly at her. “She’s your mama,” she said, “she loves you, boo.”

Draco pulled a hand away from her face and looked down at the wet streak of mascara on her finger. She stood up suddenly with newfound determination. “I’ve got to fix my makeup.” 

—

“Welcome back, Ladies. I’ve made some decisions,” RuPaul began after the queens reassembled at the front of the stage. “Lorena Gucci, you are safe.” Lorena nodded her thanks and retreated to the back.

“Draco,” RuPaul addressed. “You are one fierce queen, but this week, your cooking was only...half baked. I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.” Draco nodded stiffly. She had expected as much.

“Acacia Davenport, you are a queen who knows how to serve a heated look, but this week, your performance was...undercooked. I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.” Acacia nodded and sniffled into her glove.

“Steve Donovan, Intoxia Madison, you’re both safe. You may join the other girls.” They both thanked RuPaul and went to the back.

“Two queens stand before me. Ladies, this is your last chance to impress me and save yourself from elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync...for your life!”

—Confessional—

“I don’t care how many times I have to lip sync. I will send these other girls home one by one,” Acacia said. “If you go up against me, you better bring it, because I am a lip sync assassin. And I want to win.”

—

“Good luck, and don’t fuck it up,” RuPaul told them. Draco and Acacia shot looks at each other as they shook out their nerves before the music began.

As the instrumental of the song’s opening bars played through, Draco pulled a folded-up piece of parchment from her bra. She unfolded it and raised it to her lips, kissing it near the bottom, before lowering it and gazing reverently at it. She sighed. She looked up to the judges in time to lip sync the first few words.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
Voilà le portrait sans retouche
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

—Confessional—

Lorena made a funny look. “Is Draco using a cheat sheet?”

—

Acacia was dancing up a storm. By this point, she had already twirled in a giant circle around Draco, death dropped, and landed in the splits.

—Confessional—

“This song isn’t about shablams,” Draco explained. “It’s about being so crazy, stupidly in love that you see everything through rose-coloured glasses. It’s about finding a love that gives you so much hope after you’ve lived through a really dark time, and you don’t care if it makes you look like a fool.”

Draco smirked at the camera. “Oh, and have I mentioned that I’m fluent in French? Cette synchronisation labiale, n'est pas une problème.”

—

On stage, Draco held the parchment to her bosom and sighed happily.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle l‘a tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose

Draco spun around in a circle and skipped lightly across the stage, waving the parchment to the judges as she beamed happily. The judges squinted, trying to tell whether she was holding the song lyrics or not.

—Confessional—

“Draco is out there nailing every single word,” Goldie explained. “She’s not even looking at that piece of paper. She don’t need no cheat sheet!”

—

Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous le jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose

—Confessional—

“My girl Acacia is giving this lip sync everything she’s got — she’s doing death drops, cartwheels, armography, you name it,” Paris said. “But I don’t know if she gets that that isn’t what this song is about.”

—

Il est entré dans mon coeur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause

Draco held the parchment up and pointed to it emphatically, as if it explained all her feelings in the song. It was a letter from Harry wishing her good luck on Drag Race; he had slipped it into her suitcase before leaving London. Draco’s lipstick was now printed at the bottom next to Harry’s signature.

C'est lui pour moi
Moi pour lui dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie

Draco sat down tenderly on the edge of the stage and gazed at the letter again before embracing it once more. A tear fell down one cheek.

Et dès que je l'aperçois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat

As the song ended, Draco folded the letter and tucked it back into her bra. She looked up to the stage lights, holding her hand over her bosom where the letter rested.

—At the Viewing Party—

Draco turned her head when she felt Harry slip his hand in hers under the table. She squeezed back, releasing a faint gasp when she saw the look on his face.

“I love you, too,” Harry said, full of adoration. He reached a hand up to pull a lock of her wig away from her face and cupped her cheek. She smiled shyly back at him. Draco had never been easy with displaying emotions, especially in such a public venue. It was somehow easier to hide it behind a performance.

Harry didn’t share that problem. He leaned forward and kissed her, lips expressing the passion more than words. Draco responded eagerly.

When Draco finally pulled away, she looked at Harry and smirked. She handed him a napkin. 

“You might want to clean up a bit,” she said, “you’re wearing half my face now.”

—

“Ladies!” RuPaul announced, “I have made my decision.” Both queens faced her stoically.

“Draco! Tonight, you showed us life through rose-colored glasses. Chanté, you stay.”

—At the Viewing Party—

“YES!” a few people cried in the audience. Applause filled the Bent Unicorn.

—

“You may join the other girls,” RuPaul continued. Draco bowed in gratitude and walked to the back of the stage. Goldie gave her a hug.

“Acacia Davenport, you are one fierce queen. And I know your career is really going to cook after this.” Acacia nodded stiffly. “Now, sashay away.”

Acacia nodded once more before turning around and sashaying, stopping to get a giant hug from Paris before she left.

“Condragulations, my queens!” RuPaul continued afterward. “Oh, and remember — if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love someone else? Can I get an amen!”

“Amen!” The queens all cried from the back of the stage.

“All right, now let the music play!”

—After the Viewing Party—

Draco was returning to green room backstage when the person in the hooded cloak who had sat alone in a corner at each viewing party suddenly appeared. The figure approached her and pulled the hood back.

“Mother!” Draco exclaimed, astonished.

“Draco,” Narcissa choked, and reached her arms forward before stopping herself in uncertainty.

Draco lunged forward and pulled her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered into Draco’s wig.

Draco swallowed past a lump in her throat. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you throughout this ordeal,” Narcissa whispered. “Your fa— Lucius has made it difficult for me to speak against him.”

Draco nodded. She knew all too well what Lucius was like. He didn’t need legal counsel to make his wife’s home life unbearable if he didn’t approve of her behaviour. 

“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” Narcissa continued. “But I wanted to let you know that I’ve been watching your performances. I’m so proud of you.”

She kissed Draco’s cheek and pulled away. “Keep fighting, Draco. You have more supporters than I think you realize.”

With that, Narcissa disapparated, leaving Draco behind in the hallway outside her green room.

A moment later, Harry showed up. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Draco decided after taking a moment. She smiled. “I might be better now than I’ve been in a while.”

—

Sneak Peek for Episode 6:

“Oh, man! ” Intoxia cried. “At this stage of the competition, we’ve all been cloistered away without any sex in, like, forever, and now we have hot, sexy manmeat and balls flying all over the place.” He laughed. “How are we supposed to concentrate on the rubber balls again?”

—

“Now, for your maxi challenge this week, we’re going to play a different kind of game,” RuPaul continued. “SNATCH GAME!”

—

"Don't worry, I'm British. Our body composition is at least ten to fifteen percent alcohol." 

—

“You don’t think I know about pop culture?” Draco sneered. “I was Cher, bitch!”

Chapter Text

—Before the Viewing Party—

Draco put the finishing touches on her costume in the green room behind the Bent Unicorn’s stage area, fixing a ruffled pink hat to her short brown wig. She had begun doing more of her prep work onsite rather than back at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, much to Teddy’s dismay. She had other practical considerations for avoiding being seen in this particular costume prior to taking the stage to introduce the episode. 

She probably should have warned Harry about it first, however. It was too late when the other wizard entered the room and gasped in shock. His face went white and he absently rubbed the back of his hand.

“So I guess I have the look down,” Draco commented. She stood up and smoothed out her pink tweed suit. She hadn’t added extra padding for this look, but maybe it didn’t matter. “I’m still working on the voice, though. What do you think of this: tee hee!” she let out a dainty little giggle.

“Absolutely horrifying,” Harry answered. “Why are you dressing up like her of all people?”

Draco sat back down and added a kitten brooch to her suit jacket. “I know a lot of people in this audience won’t understand much of what happens in this week’s episode unless they have had a surprising amount of exposure to American muggle culture. I thought I would take the opportunity tonight to play someone they might actually recognize instead. Think I can make her funny?” She smirked at him through the mirror.

“I think the real Dolores Umbridge would have kittens at the thought of being caught in a gay pub.”

“Well. Good for her, I say. She always did like kittens, didn’t she? Maybe if we’re lucky, the Prophet will write a story about it.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re certainly a lot braver about press coverage than you were a few weeks ago.”

Draco had warmed up considerably to The Daily Prophet in the past few weeks, especially since their continued coverage of Draco’s performances on Drag Race had mostly been favorable and brought in more witches and wizards to the viewing parties, which afforded Draco more bookings.

The wizarding public, in turn, had warmed up to Draco even more after the Prophet reviewed the previous episode. Seeing Draco openly express his love for Harry in the lip sync, and Harry’s love letter to Draco, helped convince more than a few people that he wasn’t simply with Harry for personal gain.

“I suppose it’s part of my journey to celebrity,” Draco preened. “Shall we?” She stood up and took Harry’s arm to head toward the stage.

“Good evening, children!” Draco-as-Dolores-Umbridge sang once onstage, using a Sonorous spell to amplify her voice. Harry quietly slinked away to his seat.

The audience met this greeting with a wild mix of laughs, jeers, and odd catcalls.

“Hey Umbridge, does the Ministry know you’re here?”

“Who finally got you to stick to a diet?!”

“STUDENTS WILL RAISE THEIR HANDS WHEN THEY SPEAK IN MY CLASS!” she continued, then giggled girlishly. “You are all here to learn about muggle culture in a safe, risk-free environment,” she cooed. “Now, we shall all sit back and observe this lesson with passive decorum, or I shall begin assigning detention.”

More laughter and jeers followed this pronouncement.

—Beginning Episode 6—

The queens stumbled into the werkroom after Acacia Davenport’s departure.

“Oh, ma’am,” Goldie Hanako sighed as she took off her earrings. She paused when she looked at Acacia’s mirror message and let out a loud shriek. “Whaaaaat?!”

“‘Good luck to my sisters — win that crown!’” Paris Davenport read aloud. “Oh, I miss her already! ‘Except Draco your next.’ Damn, girl!” she laughed.

Draco wrinkled her nose and wiped the message away immediately. “Not hardly,” she sniffed. “I am now more determined than ever to stay in the game. Besides, it’s ‘you’re,’ not ‘your.’”

—Confessional—

“I was spending so much energy worrying about what would happen with this court case,” Draco said. “Losing the right to my name still hurts, but now that I’ve lived through it, I feel like I should have more focus on this competition. From now on, I’m looking forward and upward.”

—

“What was on that paper you were waving around, anyway?” Kali Sister asked. “We all thought you had a cheat sheet for the lyrics.”

Draco pulled Harry’s letter from her bosom and showed it to her. Kali’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Intoxia Madison peered over her shoulder.

“Ooh, Harry, huh? Is he the guy who was in your Untucked video?” Intoxia asked.

Draco nodded. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“That was sweet, what your mom said.” Lady Cakes McMansion took collapsed on the sofa with a heavy sigh. “Girl, I thought you were gonna jump out of your skin when you saw that video.”

Draco chuckled. “You don’t know my mother.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought, either. I never would have dreamed she would do something like that.”

“What, tell you she loves you?” Steve Donovan looked confused.

“Record a video.”

“For real, she looks like someone straight out of Downton Abbey. ” Lorena Gucci said.

“Oh, no, she’s not religious,” Draco laughed.

“Lady Cakes and Venus, congrats on that win, girls!” Goldie exclaimed, changing the subject.

“Yaaas, it’s about time I got a win!” Venus Flygirl curtseyed. “That’s two for you, Lady,” she added.

“Praise Jesus!” Lady Cakes laughed.

—

The next morning, Auror Heather Villareal was waiting for him at the San Adra Quidditch Park when Draco went out for his morning fly.

“So, hangover potions and cauldrons.” She shot him a pointed look, maintaining an otherwise nonchalant pose as she flew alongside him.

“Right,” Draco began uneasily. He knew he would have to face the issue of his blunder in the last challenge eventually. He just wished it didn’t have to be before six in the morning. The sun was barely over the horizon of the smoggy Los Angeles sky. He hadn’t even had his first cup of tea of the day.

“Did you even try to remember our Statute of Secrecy?”

“Of course!” Draco shot back. “It’s just that— well, I suppose I was a bit distracted, what with the court case and all.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Anyway, they seemed to buy the idea of a hangover remedy. And they weren’t surprised by the idea of potions and cauldrons, either — they just didn’t understand why I was talking about them when I didn’t dress to fit their idea of a witch.”

Villareal was silent for a moment, seeming to consider this.

“I didn’t do any actual magic, after all,” Draco continued. “Maybe this whole episode could be brushed aside like the Voynich manuscript.”

The Auror frowned. “Voynich manuscript? What’s that?”

“It’s a copy of Morgana’s Magical Miscellany that fell into muggle hands. It’s full of information on herbology, astronomy, and potions, all written in Veela, and the muggles have spent a hundred years trying to make sense of it. But it hasn’t been considered a breach of the Statute because they still don’t know what they’re even looking at.”

“Ah! Now I remember,” she nodded. “Last I heard, I think someone was arguing that it’s a women’s health manual.”

“Probably due to the hundreds of drawings of naked women. In any case, muggles have been studying it for a long time, but they still don’t know it’s about magic.”

“Hmm. And you think that your talking about potions and cauldrons on national TV is safe because muggles don’t know any better?”

“We can hope, right? I certainly don’t think I proved anything to anyone about the existence of magic. I think I’ve only confused them regarding my... personal quirks.”

“In other words, they just think you’re fucking bonkers.”

“Rude,” he sniffed, “But possible. Anyway, you have my word that I will be more careful in the future.”

“All right,” she said after a moment of thought. “We’ll go with that for now. But I will hold you to your word on that.” Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

“By the way, I have some mail for you.” She pulled a stack of envelopes from her pocket, which Draco gladly took. “I’ll be watching you on set!” With that, she flew away.

When he was back in his hotel room, he quickly read through letters from Harry, Pansy, Blaise, his great-great-great aunt (of all people), and a crayon drawing from Teddy that showed himself and Draco with matching turquoise hair and purple dresses.

—

Later that morning, the queens reentered the werkroom, ready for the next challenge. Draco had chosen to wear a blousy black poet’s shirt tucked into black skinny jeans and black riding boots. Intoxia said he was serving “The Dread Pirate Roberts” on the ride to the studio, though Draco hadn’t understood the reference. He walked over to his station and taped up Teddy’s picture.

“What do you think we’ll be doing this week?” Kali asked.

Paris looked around. “It’s down to nine of us. Do you think—”

“Morning, Racers!” RuPaul called from the video screen. “Are you ready to play a game? Ooh, I do love games! But...who am I gonna play? More importantly, what am I gonna wear?! ” The screen went to black.

Before any of them could make any guesses what this message might mean, RuPaul entered the werkroom in person. 

“Hello, hello, hello!” He wore a sunshine-yellow suit paired with a lilac button-down shirt.

“For this week’s mini challenge, we’re going to play a game. Oh, Pit Crew!” RuPaul called out. Half a dozen muscular men in skimpy underpants walked into the room and lined up against the wall opposite the queens. The queens preened and looked excited.

RuPaul went over to a large bag that one of the men held open for him. “Oh, my! You’ve got a large sack,” he flirted. The man gave a suggestive smirk. RuPaul leaned forward and pulled a large ball out of the bag. 

“We’re going to play...Dodgeball!” A few queens looked horrified. “Now, the object of the game is to avoid getting hit by flying balls. The last queen left standing wins!” With that, he threw the ball up in the air and got out of the way.

—Confessional—

“Oh, man! ” Intoxia cried. “At this stage of the competition, we’ve all been cloistered away without any sex in, like, forever, and now we have hot, sexy manmeat and balls flying all over the place.” He laughed. “How are we supposed to concentrate on the rubber balls again?”

—

What ensued could only be described as pure chaos. The Pit Crew threw large, soft balls that bounced off queens with a dull “boing,” while the queens jumped back and forth, letting out high-pitched squeals and swooning dramatically when they were hit. No one appeared to be seriously hurt because the balls were so soft, so it became a contest to see which losing queen could get the most laughs for her failure. 

Draco jumped and dodged and wove up and down and back and forth. All those years of playing quidditch at Hogwarts had seemingly led up to this moment. The Slytherin seeker had always been a popular target for other teams’ beaters. His eyes easily followed multiple balls whizzing around him.

—Confessional—

Lady Cakes hooted with laughter. “You know, I’m a big girl so we all knew I was gonna get knocked out first. I don’t mind because now I get to watch, but honey, I need popcorn, ‘cuz we got some major martial arts dance off going on in here!”

—

Kali cried out in dismay when a ball hit him on the hip as she spun around. Soon, it was down to just Draco and Venus. The game intensified now that six men had fewer targets to aim at.

—Confessional—

“Pretty soon Venus and Draco are the last ones left, and they’re spinning around, bouncing through the air and it’s like some fierce lip sync gymnastics without the music....or the lip syncing,” Steve added.

—

Venus executed a very impressive backflip to avoid a ball. RuPaul’s jaw dropped. The queens cheered. Then another ball ricocheted off the back wall and hit her in the back of the head with a sad “thunk ” as she landed.

She sank to her knees and lifted her face and hands heavenward as the Pit Crew stopped throwing balls. “WHYYYYY???!!” she cried.

—Confessional—

“I was so close!” Venus held her thumb and forefinger close together. “So close!”

—

“We have a winner!” RuPaul announced. The queens cheered. Draco beamed and curtseyed, slightly out of breath.

—Confessional—

“I won a challenge!” Draco told the camera excitedly. “I’d like to thank everyone who tried to bludgeon me back in school. The joke's on you, you tossers!”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry snorted and wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulder and squeezed. The audience at the Bent Unicorn cheered.

“You’re welcome, git!” George Weasley heckled.

—

“Condragulations, Draco! You have won a two-thousand-dollar gift certificate for custom jewelry by Viva Regina.” Draco clapped and jumped up and down caught up in the excitement.

“Now, for your maxi challenge this week, we’re going to play a different kind of game,” RuPaul continued. “Wait for it… wait for it… SNATCH GAME!”

The queens cheered.

“It’s time to break out your best celebrity impersonations. Be fabulous, be a star, and most importantly, BE FUNNY! Gentlemen, start your engines...and may the best woman win! ”

—Confessional—

“This is a high-stakes game,” Kali told the camera. “A lot of queens go into Snatch Game thinking they’re funny, only to land in the bottom two. If you’re not shitting yourself in terror, you’re probably delusional.”

—

“So, who are you gonna play?” Goldie asked Intoxia. 

“Carrie Fisher,” the other queen answered. “How about you?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to choose between Awkwafina and George Takei.”

“Let’s hear your Awkwafina,” Lady Cakes joined in.

Goldie took a deep breath and centered her gravity. “Bok, bok, bitch!”

Lady Cakes and Intoxia blinked. Venus turned and looked. “What was that?”

“That’s a line from Crazy Rich Asians. ”

Lady Cakes stroked his chin. “What’s your George Takei?”

“Ohhh MY.”

The others laughed. “That was good! You should totally do him!” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Lady Cakes agreed. “I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but I think there’s a lot you can do to make him funny. Venus, who are you playing?”

“I’m going with the original flygirl — Amelia Earhart!” He held up a very short brown wig.

“Who?” Lorena asked.

“You know, she was that pilot who disappeared a long time ago?”

Lorena and Steve shook their heads.

“Well, you’ll know her soon, because I am bringing her to life!”

“Who are you gonna be, Miss Lady Cakes?” Paris asked.

“Nicole Byer.” 

“Yaaas!” Paris tapped her long fingernails together.

“What about you?”

“I gotta level with you,” Paris answered, “I don’t really do impressions. All I’ve got is Beyoncé.”

Intoxia raised an eyebrow. “Girl. How are you gonna find a way to make Beyoncé funny? Everyone who’s done Beyoncé on this show has fucked it up!”

—Confessional—

“So far on Drag Race, we’ve had bitchy Beyoncé, Sleepy Farting Beyoncé, and Boring Beyoncé,” Intoxia counted on her fingers. “And they’ve all tanked. What’s Paris gonna contribute?”

—

“I don’t know.” Paris fidgeted with the wig in his hands.

“But she doesn’t do anything funny. She barely shows any personality in her public persona.”

Paris panicked. “Oh shit, what the hell am I gonna do? I’m just hoping to be safe this challenge!”

“Girl.” Lady Cakes held her by the shoulders. “You can do this. Just make some shit up. Think of Beyoncé like a blank slate and just do something totally outside the box. And if that fails, we gonna pray.”

Paris chuckled despite herself and nodded.

—

“Why hello, Draco!” RuPaul greeted as he approached Draco, who was styling a blonde bob wig at his work table. “Tell, me, who is this going to be?”

“RuPaul, please allow me to introduce you to the legendary British celebrity baker, Mary Berry.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Kali watching them. Kali seemed to be muttering something under his breath but Draco couldn’t make it out.

“You’re going to be Mary Berry, from The Great British Bakeoff !” RuPaul enthused. His smile slipped as he fixed Draco with a serious expression. “Tell me, what are you going to do to make her funny ?”

“Well, she’s not on Bakeoff anymore, so she has a bit more time to indulge in a favourite hobby,” Draco replied, lifting his hand up to his mouth to pantomime taking a drink. Kali muttered again.

“So, you’re going to make her drunk, is that it?”

“Let’s just say she’ll enjoy a good tipple. Maybe a few of them.”

“A few of them,” Kali muttered, this time loud enough for Draco to hear.

“Well, I can see you have a lot of work to do, so I’ll leave you to it.” RuPaul moved on to Lorena’s work table and proceeded to ask him about Ariana Grande.

—

“Draco,” Kali asked as they were putting on their makeup. “Who is Mary Berry?”

“She’s a legendary British baker.”

“A legendary British baker,” Kali repeated, affecting Draco’s British accent.

“Yes. She was a judge on a reality competition show for bakers, and — are you mocking me ?!”

Kali had repeated everything Draco said, word for word, under her breath. Draco put down the contour brush and glared at the other queen.

“Am I mocking you ?” Kali asked. Draco’s nostrils flared slightly in warning. Kali held up both hands in surrender. “No. I mean, not intentionally? I’m playing a British celebrity, too, so I thought repeating what you say might help me get the accent down.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Right. Well. I suppose that’s all right. Who is it then?”

“Jameela Jamil.” 

“Oh, yes, of course.” Draco had no clue who that was.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Kali innocently affixed a long, black wig onto her head and parted the thick fringe in the middle.

Draco said nothing and shot her a dirty look.

“Right, I suppose I must carry on alone then,” Kali said, trying to maintain a wobbly British accent. “It wouldn’t do if I annoyed you enough to turn me into a toad.”

“Yerr damn right,” Draco replied in a thick American accent. Kali laughed.

—

Eventually, it was time for the queens to arrive on the set for Snatch Game. Draco mentally compartmentalized her nerves as she set up her prop and made final adjustments to her appearance. Finally, the real celebrities entered the set and took their places, and the show began. A trumpet fanfare started playing as the queens were instructed to wave at the camera.

“Welcome to Snatch Game!" RuPaul addressed the camera. "Let’s meet our contestants! Our first contestant is a beauty and a little woman who’s all grown up, Emma Watson!” Emma smiled and waved hello. 

“And our second contestant is legendary British actor, Jason Isaacs!” 

“It’s great to be here, Ru.” Jason greeted.

“Are you both ready to meet our fabulous celebrity panel?”

“Yes, GAWD!” Emma cheered.

“First up is legendary actor and civil rights activist, George Takei!”

Goldie-as-George-Takei waved. “Thank you! I would like to remind everybody that it is okay to be Takei!” 

“Mr. Takei, can I call you George?”

“RuPaul, I am a man in my eighties. And at my age, I find that I don’t care as much about formal titles as I used to,” he explained. RuPaul nodded. “So you can call me Jiggly, just as long as you call me.” RuPaul laughed. 

“All right, Jiggly,” RuPaul grinned, “Thank you for joining us today! Now, it’s time to introduce our next celebrity. She is the 2019 Woman of the Decade Award winner, Taylor Swift!”

Steve-as-Taylor-Swift twirled her hands in the air delicately. “It’s great to be here! Whoo!” she exclaimed at a low, demure volume.

“What do you have planned for this next decade?”

“Oh, you know, I’m going to keep writing songs, but instead of writing about ex-boyfriends, all of my songs will be about my cats.” She giggled.

“Okay, then. Now, it’s time to meet the Queen of the Air herself, Amelia Earhart!” Venus-as-Amelia-Earhart waved.

“Hi, Ru! Thanks for inviting me, but I can’t stay long. I got a hot date with Marlene Dietrich.”

“All right, we’ll try to keep this short. But first, I think the question on everyone’s mind is, where have you been? Everyone’s been looking for you!”

“Well, long story short, I was halfway over the Pacific Ocean when my aeroplane got a bad case of the gremlins and everything went all whimsy-whamsy in the gubbins.” RuPaul laughed. “I had just enough time to grab Mae West and jump out with a parachute made from a stick of Beech-Nut chewing gum.”

“Mae West? You had Mae West with you?”

“Naw, not the real one. That’s what I call my flotation device. But she kept me company on the open waters, and I protected her from the sharks with my handy-dandy Swiss army knife.” She held up a tiny pocket knife, eliciting another laugh from RuPaul.

“All right, well, we’re glad to have you here,” RuPaul continued. “Now, let’s meet Ariana Grande!” 

“Hi Ru, this is the best day of my life,” Lorena-as-Ariana-Grande smiled and batted her eyes.

“Now, there’s something about you that makes me want to ask — do you feel like a dangerous woman today?”

“Oh, no, I’m not dangerous,” she replied.

“Really? Because I thought—”

“I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Oh. Okay,” RuPaul blinked. “Thank you...Next, we have Jameela Jamil, from the hit TV show The Good Place!”  Kali-as-Jameela-Jamil waved at the camera. “So Jameela, are you in the Good Place right now?”

Kali answered with the world’s crunchiest cockney accent. “Thank you, RuPaul, I think I must be in the Great Place, because it’s great to be here!” 

—Confessional—

“Is that really Kali’s idea of a British accent?” Draco asked in disbelief. He smirked. “I say, maybe she’s from western Britain — far western Britain.”

Then he blinked as a light bulb metaphorically appeared over his head. “Wait, is that what she thinks I sound like?”

—

“Next, we have Nicole Byer, the hilarious host of Nailed It! ” RuPaul announced. 

“HI, RU!” Lady-Cakes-as-Nicole-Byer chirped loudly. Next to her, Draco jumped in her seat, not expecting the extra volume. 

“Tell me, what’s the secret to really nailing a cake?”

“I have it made by Mr. Chocolate himself, Jacques Torres!” She held up a small hand puppet of a man in a white chef’s jacket. RuPaul laughed. She turned to her puppet. “Jacques, why don’t you go bake a cake for us right now?” The puppet’s head nodded, and then she stuck it back under the desk.

“Oh, so he’s gonna bake a cake under the desk?” RuPaul asked. Nicole nodded.

“Our next star is also part of the baking community — it’s celebrity baker, Mary Berry!”

“Well, hello RuPaul, it certainly is a pleasure to be here!”

Draco dressed in a floral-print blazer with a pale pink scarf and ear-length gray-blonde bob. She had painted her face with lines to imitate the wrinkles of an octogenarian woman. Next to a name card that read “Mary Berry” in a pretty cursive was an oversized wine goblet that appeared to hold an entire bottle of chardonnay.

“Now Mary, I see you brought a drink with you. Are you thirsty?”

"Well, RuPaul, as you may know, I've retired from the Great British Bakeoff," Draco-as-Mary-Berry explained, "So now that I have more time on my hands, I can indulge in a little tipple now and then. Especially now. But I only have one glass," Mary Berry insisted, and took a sip. “Mmm, scrummy!"

RuPaul moved on to the next queen. “Now, it’s time to introduce a princess from a galaxy far away, Carrie Fisher!” Intoxia-as-Carrie-Fisher waved. “Tell me something,” RuPaul said. “As the star of a legendary movie franchise, did it take some convincing for you to come here on our show today?”

“No, Ru, and I’ll keep it real with you,” Intoxia-as-Carrie-Fisher replied. “I’m a female...in Hollywood...over a certain age...and dead. There aren’t a lot of job offers for me to choose from.”

Everyone looked at her in silence.

“Uh huh. O-okay,” RuPaul continued. “And last but not least, the Queen Bey herself, Beyoncé!”

Paris-as-Beyoncé nodded and waved her hand solemnly. “It is an honor for you to have me here today,” she said imperiously.

“Oh! Yes, thank you, we are all very honored. All right, are you all ready to play Snatch Game?” RuPaul switched topics. Everyone cheered. Mary Berry lifted her glass in salute and took another drink.

“Now, here’s how the game works, ladies! I will ask a series of questions, our celebrity contestants fill in the blanks, and you will give an answer that you think will match theirs. First up, Emma. Dirty Diana is so dirty, she uses blank instead of birth control?”

Emma Watson thought for a moment. “I’m going to say that she uses...a kitchen sponge.”

“A kitchen sponge! Because she’s so dirty!” RuPaul agreed. “Now let’s go to our stars and hear what they had to say. Amelia, how did you answer?”

“Bathtub gin!" She held up her card. “If yer not careful, it’ll make you go blind, too.”

RuPaul laughed. “Okay, let’s move on. Mary Berry, Dirty Diana is so dirty, she uses what instead of birth control?” 

“Well. I do believe our minds were in different places because I was thinking about cake, but I said a good sponge,” Draco-as-Mary-Berry answered, holding up her card. “It needs to be firm, yet absolutely penetrated with syrup.”

“All right, that’s a match!” RuPaul pronounced. Emma applauded.

“It’s beautifully moist,” Mary Berry added.

“Yes, I’m sure it is. Ariana Grande, how did you answer?”

“A donut,” Lorena-as-Ariana-Grande held up her card.

“Sorry, not a match. George Takei, Dirty Diana is so dirty, she uses what instead of birth control?”

“Ru, I wrote down Star Trek Conventions.” He held up his card.

“Star Trek conventions are a form of birth control?”

“That’s right,” he replied. “I’ve been to hundreds of them, and absolutely no one has sex there.”

RuPaul doubled over in laughter. Intoxia shot Goldie a dirty look.

“Okay, let’s move on to Jameela Jamil. Jameela, what did you say?”

“I wrote down corgies. ” Emma Watson, Jason Isaacs, and Draco all cringed at her accent. She held up a card with C0rG1es written on it.

“Corgies?” RuPaul asked. Kali-as-Jameela nodded. “She uses Welsh Corgies as birth control? I see you’ve chosen an unusual spelling there. Why did you use a mix of numbers and letters?”

“That’s because it’s the queen’s Netflix password.”

—Confessional—

“Kali is serving Jameela Jamil by way of Dick Van Dyke,” Lady Cakes laughed. “It’s a jolly ‘oliday with Kali!”

—

“All right,” RuPaul continued. Let’s move on to the next question. This one is for Jason: The big bad wolf is a drag queen. Instead of huffing and puffing, she blanks the house down.”

Jason Isaacs raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to say that she boots the house down.” 

“All right, she boots the house down. That’s a very good answer! Beyoncé, what did you say?”

“My Beyhive,” Paris-as-Beyoncé answered.

“She beyhives the house down?” 

“Any time someone gives me any problem on social media, I just RELEASE THE BEES!” She swept her arms dramatically. RuPaul laughed. 

“Sorry, not a match. Taylor Swift, how did you answer?” Steve-as-Taylor-Swift opened her mouth.

“Imma let you finish—” Lady-Cakes-as-Nicole-Byer interrupted. “But first I just wanna say that Beyoncé had one of the best answers of all time!!”

Steve-as-Taylor-Swift dropped her jaw in shock.

RuPaul doubled over in laughter. “That’s okay, Taylor, that’s okay. Just shake it off,” he told her. Taylor shook her arms and head.

Nicole turned to RuPaul. “I always wanted to say that!” 

“Now, Taylor Swift, what was your answer?”

“I just drew a little picture of my cats,” she answered. “They’re the richest cats in the world.”

“Ooh, I wouldn’t mind seeing your cat sometime,” Venus-as-Amelia-Earhart said, waggling her eyebrows. She turned to RuPaul. “Back in my day, we used to call that a euphemism. ”

RuPaul laughed. “Sorry, not a match. All right, Nicole Byer, what’s your answer?”

“I think she’s gonna steal their toilet paper.”

“Steal their toilet paper ?!”

“I love not paying for things! I haven’t paid for toilet paper in six years. I’ve got two rolls in my bra right now that I got from your bathroom backstage.” She giggled.

“Security!” RuPaul called to someone behind the camera. “Anyway, I’m afraid that’s not a match. Let’s move on to Carrie Fisher. Carrie, the big bad wolf is a drag queen. Instead of huffing and puffing, she blanks the house down. What did you say?”

“I said he takes his prescription medication! ” Intoxia-as-Carrie-Fisher held up her card. “You should always take your prescription medication, RuPaul.”

“The big bad wolf takes his prescription medication the house down?”

“Yes. If he took his medication, maybe he wouldn’t feel the need to be so violent anymore. We should all take our medication.”

RuPaul blinked. “Oh. Okay.”

—Confessional—

“GIRL. Where. Are. The. Jokes?!” Lady Cakes clapped on each word.

—

“Sorry, not a match,” RuPaul continued. “Okay, are you ready for the next question, Emma?”

“Yes I am!”

“Okay! Those sexy Kardashian sisters are starring in a new sci-fi epic, called Star Blank!”

“Hmm,” Emma answered, “I’m going to say it’s called Star Booty. ”

“Excellent! That’s a great answer. Now, let’s turn to our celebrity panel. Ariana, how did you answer?”

Lorena-as-Ariana held up a card. “Girlfriend.”

“Hmm, sorry, not a match. Let’s turn now to Mary Berry. Are you all right, there, Mary?” RuPaul asked as Draco swayed in her seat, sloshing her giant glass of chardonnay. The contents had dropped considerably since the start of the game.

"Don't worry, I'm British. Our body composition is at least ten to fifteen percent alcohol." 

RuPaul laughed. “Okay, Mary. How did you answer the question? Those sexy Kardashian sisters are starring in a new sci-fi epic, called Star Blank!”

“Tarts!” She held up her card.

“Sorry, that’s not quite a match.”

“Well! I dare say your tart has a soggy bottom,” Mary Berry retorted, dripping with disdain. RuPaul laughed.

“George Takei, what did you put down?”

“Ohh my,” Goldie-as-George-Takei held up his card. “I just wrote Fuck William Shatner.” RuPaul doubled over in laughter. “Because fuck him and the horse he rode in on!”

“I’m afraid that’s not a match. Nicole Byer, those sexy Kardashian sisters are starring in a new sci-fi epic, called Star Blank! We’re looking for booty. How did you respond?”

“Why, Ru, I got all the booty you need!” Lady-Cakes-as-Nicole-Byer got up and turned around, bending over at the waist so her derriere was on full display.

“Oh, my!” George Takei grinned.

“Oh, yes, I’d very much like to see that in the front of a patisserie window,” Draco-as-Mary-Berry drawled lasciviously. 

RuPaul laughed. “I think that’s a match!” 

“Yay! Is it time for cake?”

“Uh—”

“I’m wondering what’s taking Jacques so long on that cake?” Lady-Cakes-as-Nicole-Byer cried out. “I’m hungry!”

Venus-as-Amelia-Earhart handed her a stick of gum. “Here, have a stick of Beech-Nut chewing gum!”

“Oh, thanks!” Nicole popped it in her mouth, then cackled without moving her lips. “AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! How old is ziss?! I ca’t ‘ove ‘y teeth!”

“Let’s move on. This question is for Jason,” RuPaul continued. “The city of San Francisco is so gay,” RuPaul said, “Instead of flags, they hang what outside their windows?”

Jason Isaacs thought for a moment. “I think they would hang bears.”

“All right, they would hang bears outside their windows, because they’re so gay! Let’s see if we have a match from any of our celebrities. Jameela Jamil, how did you answer?”

Kali-as-Jameela held up her card. “I put down my good friend, Elton John,” she answered. Her accent was still awful enough to make all the British people on set cringe.

“Sorry, not a match. Let’s go to Beyoncé. What did you say?”

Paris-as-Beyoncé fixed RuPaul with a chilly look. “I care not for the affairs of these mortals. I just wrote down lemonade.” She held up her card.

“Lemonade! Sorry, not a match. Now, let’s ask Amelia Earhart. Wait, where did Amelia go?” There was an empty seat where Venus had been sitting. “We lost Amelia Earhart!” RuPaul cried. “Again!”

“WES!” Nicole bellowed. “WHERE’S WES??!!” 

“No, we’re not looking for Wes right now,” RuPaul said. “We’re looking for Amelia Earhart. Has anyone seen her?!”

“Here I am!” Venus-as-Amelia popped up from behind her desk. “I found a nickel! Drinks are on me!” RuPaul laughed. 

“Hi, Amelia, we’re so glad to have you back. Did you have an answer for the question? The city of San Francisco is so gay, instead of flags, they hang what outside their windows?”

She held up her card. “Eleanor Roosevelt ?”

“Sorry, that’s not a match,” RuPaul answered. 

“Aw, nuts.”

“Mary Berry, how did you respond?”

“Paul Hollywood!" Draco-as-Mary’s hands wobbled a bit as she held up her answer card. “Bum bandit stole my show, he did!"

“What?” RuPaul asked in a mock whisper, “Is Paul Hollywood gay ?!”

“Oh, no,” Mary shook her head. "Let’s just say that he likes his baguettes long—” she winked unsubtly and stretched out her wobbly arms to demonstrate, “—and uncircumcised." RuPaul doubled over in laughter. Jason Isaacs snorted.

“Sorry, that’s not a match,” RuPaul continued. Draco-as-Mary-Berry shrugged and drained the last of her wine.

“Let’s ask Carrie Fisher. Carrie, the city of San Francisco is so gay, instead of flags, they hang what outside their windows?”

Intoxia-as-Carrie held up her card. “I said Storm Troopers. When we were filming Star Wars, I went through the crew like wildfire. I slept with everyone, down to the last stormtrooper.”

RuPaul blinked. “The storm troopers are a gay symbol, because you slept with them?”

“That’s right.”

“And… YA DONE!” Nicole bellowed. She pulled a small cake out from under the desk.

“Nicole, did Jacques just make that cake?” RuPaul asked.

“He sure did! Would you like a slice?”

“No,” he answered flatly. “I make it a point not to eat after 1992.”

Draco-as-Mary-Berry picked up a fork and took a bite, then made a face. “Is this rum cake? I can’t taste the alcohol.”

“I think it’s supposed to be chocolate?”

“Not to worry, we can fix this.” Mary pulled out a fifth of rum and slammed it on the desk.

“WHOAHOHOHOHOHO!!!” Nicole laughed. “I like you!”

“Oh, would you look at that?” RuPaul asked. “Our time’s up. And that means that our winner is...who cares?! This is RuPaul, reminding you to stop, drop, and roll. Thanks for watching! Say goodbye, stars!”

“Goodbye, stars!”

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience at the viewing party had been laughing and making snide commentary about Kali’s attempt at a British accent. Harry and a few others with a bit more exposure to the muggle world laughed at Draco’s Mary Berry impression.

“You know Paul Hollywood is actually straight, right?” Harry had whispered in Draco’s ear.

Draco had merely rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Labels.”

The crowd grew more and more raucous as Draco stoked her Dolores Umbridge impression during the following commercial break.

“Hem, hem.” No one acknowledged the fake cough from Draco-as-Umbridge on stage. “HEM HEM! MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!” she bellowed. “I seem to have lost my cat. Has anyone seen my pussy?” The audience laughed. “Why are you all laughing? Now, I want everyone to help look for my pussy. I LOVE PUSSY!”

This was followed my more laughter and catcalls.

“This situation is far worse than I feared! Now you all need to settle down and respect my authority. I am a respectable witch from an ancient family. I’ll have you know that my third cousin is a pureblood!” The purebloods in the room laughed. Merlin, she even caught Granger chuckling at that one.

—

The next day was Elimination Day. The theme for the runway was Cosplay, the fictional recreations meant to provide a switch from the non-fictional portrayals of the Snatch Game. 

Intoxia and Kali entered the werkroom in poor spirits that morning and remained quieter than usual as they prepared their runway looks.

“That was really hard yesterday,” Steve said as he steamed a turquoise gown. 

“I know, right?” Goldie was busy styling an already full-bodied, candy-apple red wig into a low braid. “I mean, I think I did okay. At least, I don’t think I was the worst, you know?”

“Hmm. All I know is that I’ve really gotta serve the best damn Elsa I can on that runway,” Steve said nervously.

“Girl, you’ll be fine,” Venus said, re-shaping a wide-brimmed red fedora that must have flattened slightly in his suitcase.

Draco, meanwhile, was staring intently at his wardrobe rack. Cosplay was not a look he felt very confident about, even though he had known about the challenge before coming on the show and had had time to prepare in advance.

His first choice had been Karen Jones from the Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle comics. Karen had always fascinated him because she worked in something called “Finance” and kept a tiny dog in a purse. But he knew he couldn’t explain that away on muggle television. 

So, he had asked Granger for advice. After some discussion and a trip to a muggle vintage clothing store, Draco was equipped with a halter top, leather trousers, chunky-heeled boots, and a wooden stake, ready to portray Buffy the Vampire Slayer. 

This would not have been a problem, except that the unexpected letter he had received from his great-great-great aunt was weighing heavily on his mind.

Dear Draco,

Please accept my condolences on the recent situation you have found yourself in. I have been following the news from London with interest and dismay. I’m afraid Little Lucy has always been a rather simple-minded fool, though I never expected him to treat his own son the way he has treated his vampire aunt!

You are welcome to join me in Paris if you find yourself in need of a place to stay. The weather this summer is exceedingly warm, though our catacomb has remained comfortably unaffected by the heat. My found family is quite interested in meeting you and have promised not to bite (unless you so desire).

Are you really dressing like a woman for muggles? How fascinating! I look forward to hearing all about it when you get an opportunity.

Remember, you are and will always be my nephew.

Best Regards,

Direxia Rae Malfoy

It was sweet, really — and her letter had given him some comfort after losing his name. He had only met his Aunt Direxia once when he was little due to his father’s prejudice against vampires. He wanted to take her up on the offer of a visit now, and get to know the two-hundred-year-old vampire who was probably the only person in existence who could get away with calling Lucius Malfoy “Little Lucy.”

Which is why Draco now frowned at the Buffy the Vampire Slayer costume on his clothing rack. The idea of playing that type of character felt like a slap in her face. But what other choice did he have? It’s not like he knew that many fictional characters in muggle culture. Almost all of his exposure to muggle arts had been reality television programming.

He flipped through his costumes on the rack, wracking his brain for ideas. His fingers landed on an antique doll’s costume which he had found in the Black family attic at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and engorged to his size. He hadn’t had a plan for the dress, but added it to his wardrobe because it was simply exquisite: ice-blue silk embroidered in tiny silver flowers, with pale sapphire buttons and a silver silk sash and collar. The dress had to have been at least a hundred years old, but remained in remarkable condition — owing to the curse on the doll which made it attempt to strangle anyone who picked it up.

Harry had been horrified, of course. But Draco knew better. Obviously, it was meant to decorate a shelf, not get abused by some grubby-handed child.

An idea popped into Draco’s head. He would have some explaining to do — again, he reminded himself — but it might work.

—

Draco stepped onto the runway in the doll’s dress. She had styled a blonde wig into ringlet curls that dangled above her shoulders and wore Mary Jane low-heeled shoes with knee-high white stockings.

What was the most striking about her look, however, was her makeup. She had painted her face an almost white shade with pink circles on her cheeks and tiny lips. Her left eye was transfigured entirely black. A large black gash was painted across her face, from her left temple, down through the black eye, across her nose — which was largely missing, painted as a larger black hole —  and across the other cheek, ending at the back of her jaw. 

Draco held the slashed-looking, lower half of her face with her right hand while her left arm dangled limply. She limped down the runway, her left leg dragging behind her. The overall look resembled a possessed and broken antique doll.

—Confessional—

“My cosplay look is Aethelwynne,” Draco explained. “She’s an antique ceramic doll from The Intrigues of Aethelwynne, one of my favourite books when I was a kid. It’s about how Aethelwynne is brought to life and becomes a wartime spy. This specific look is from Chapter 13, after Aethelwynne gets knocked off her shelf by a cat. She breaks her face and arm and has a disjointed walk, which is truly horrifying, but she lives through it and survives the war.”

—

“Creepy…” RuPaul purred.

“Draco! What did you do to Lil’ Poundcake?!” Ross Matthews cried.

“Trixie Mattel is going through a goth phase,” Michelle Visage deadpanned.

“Ooh, I love it!” Special guest judge Helena Bonham Carter added.

—

“Welcome, Ladies!” RuPaul addressed the queens after everyone had completed their runway presentation. “When I call your name, please step forward. Goldie Hanako, Steve Donovan, Paris Davenport.”

The three queens stepped forward.

“You are all safe,” RuPaul told them. Paris sighed in relief. “You may leave the stage.” Paris, Goldie, and Steve left the stage.

The other queens looked at each other nervously.

“Now, it’s time for the judges’ critiques. Draco, tell us about your cosplay look on the runway,” RuPaul asked.

Draco explained the story of Aethelwynne. The judges silently nodded and jotted down notes.

“Your Mary Berry was hysterical,” special guest judge Matthew Lewis said. “Bang on.” Draco smiled.

“Right, I wanted whatever she was drinking,” Helena Bonham Carter added.

“I have a few more bottles. I’m happy to share,” Draco told her. The judges laughed. 

“There will be time for bribing the judges after we’re finished taping,” RuPaul declared. 

“Aww!”

“Up next, Kali Sister…”

—

“So, who do you think will be in the bottom two?” Draco asked once they were seated in the Untucked lounge. She took a genteel sip of her drink.

“Okay, don’t take this personally,” Venus began diplomatically, “But just based on the critiques, I think it’s gonna be Kali, and either Intoxia or Lorena.”

Kali nodded glumly. “That Snatch Game was brutal, but I feel like they liked my outfit on the runway, at least.” She fiddled with her beaded veil. “I’m giving them Bollywood bling realness. RuPaul even gasped when she saw my Padmavaat, so who knows? I’m hoping it helped.”

“No kidding! My look is everything tonight,” Intoxia told them. Lorena rolled her eyes. “Bitch, I had to fight in an auction at a Star Trek convention to get my hands on this prosthetic forehead! I paid four thousand dollars for that alone. I should be in the top this week because I’m giving them Kim Cardassian realness!”

“But your Carrie Fisher wasn’t funny,” Venus shot back. A few queens snorted.

“I love Carrie Fisher. I didn’t want to disrespect her memory by making a lot of stupid jokes at her expense,” she huffed.

“Girl. It’s not disrespectful if you do it right. But the jokes gotta land.” Goldie argued.

“If you couldn’t make Carrie Fisher funny, maybe you should have chosen someone else to impersonate. I thought about doing Lizzo,” Lady Cakes admitted. “She is glamorous, talented, and bootyful!” The others laughed as she made a hand gesture toward her own generous figure. “But I had trouble making her funny when I practiced it, so I went with Nicole Byer instead.”

“Then why did you decide to come for me?” Steve glared at her. Lady Cakes blinked in surprise.

“What do you mean, come for you? I was Nicole Byer. I was there to make jokes about cake.”

“You rolled right over my turn and made it sound like Beyoncé said something really funny when she didn’t. That wasn’t the greatest answer of all time!” Goldie stifled a laugh. Venus dropped her jaw, her eyes widening. 

Paris fixed Steve with some stinkeye. “Bitch, what ?”

“What you do is you business. At least you didn’t butt in when it was my turn!”

“Good lord, child. It. Was. A. Joke.” Lady Cakes rolled her eyes.

“Well maybe I didn’t find it funny.” Steve huffed.

“I didn’t think you were funny, either,” Paris added.

“It’s got nothing to do with Beyoncé being funny,” Lady Cakes argued. “Have you never seen that clip of Kanye West at the Grammys? We had both Beyoncé and Taylor Swift on Snatch Game. How could I not make that reference?”

“You could have done something that wasn’t so rude!”

“Bitch, you’re safe! Why are you even complaining?!” Kali cried. 

Steve crossed her arms and looked away.

“All I know is, I’m gonna lip sync of my motherfuckin’ life out there,” Kali added. 

“Well now, that was exciting,” Goldie smirked. “So, Draco, tell us for real. Did you make up this Ethel character?” She gestured at Draco’s oversized doll dress.

“Aethelwynne,” Draco corrected. “And no, it’s a real book.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of it.” Intoxia said. She gave Draco a chilling look as she sipped her cocktail.

“So? You don’t have to know about it for it to be real. It’s not like everyone has to be familiar with your bumpy-foreheaded bint to get that you’re dressed like some kind of character.” Draco waved a hand in Intoxia’s general direction.

“Everyone else here has a real concept for their cosplay look,” Intoxia said. She pointed at each of the queens in the room. “Lady Cakes is Wonder Woman, Venus is Carmen Sandiego, Lorena is Sofia Vergara’s character from Modern Family —”

“The judges said my look was too basic,” Lorena complained. “But I’m not into cosplay. I just wanted to look sexy.”

“Steve is Elsa,” Intoxia continued, “Paris is Okoye from Black Panther, Kali is...some kind of Indian goddess?”

“Rani Padmavati from Padmavaat,” Kali explained.

“Right. And Goldie is an anime character—”

“Ranma Saotome from Ranma ½. ” Goldie interjected. 

“Yeah! And you—” Intoxia pointed at Draco— “just look like you made some shit up because you know nothing about pop culture.”

“You don’t think I know about pop culture?” Draco sneered. “I was Cher, bitch!”

Goldie, Venus, Lady Cakes, and Steve all burst into raucous laughter.

“Oh my God,” Venus wheezed.

“It’s like, it’s funny but you don’t even know why it’s funny.” Goldie cried. She frantically waved her hands in front of her face. “Oh my god, I’m gonna mess up my eye makeup!”

Draco huffed. “Whatever. I stand by my choices.”

“What with the way you have with animals, I thought you’d go for Danaerys or some kind of Disney Princess of the Damned,” Lady Cakes said.

“Maybe next time, I will.”

—

“All right, just between us squirrelfriends, what do you think?” RuPaul asked the other judges. “Let’s start with Draco.”

“That had to be the drunkest Mary Berry I’ve ever seen,” Ross said. “It was more like Mary Berry by way of Amy Winehouse.”

“I thought it was hilarious,” Helena said. 

“What about her runway look?” RuPaul asked.

“I’ll be honest — I’ve never heard of Ethel Lynne or whatever it’s called,” Matthew said. 

“I think she had that doll costume and tried to shoehorn it into the challenge by making up some fiction about it,” Michelle decided. 

“Who cares?!” Ross cried. “It was stunning.”

“But that’s not what the challenge was about.”

“Let’s move on to Kali Sister,” RuPaul said. Matthew and Helena both cringed.

“She needs to sit down with some British accent tapes,” Ross laughed.

“What gets me is how Kali could be in the same room with three British people and still not be able to fake a British accent,” Michelle said. “I mean, talk about Amy Winehouse! Kali’s Jameela Jamil made Yara Sofia’s Amy Winehouse sound authentic.”

“But that runway look was devastating,” Helena added. “I liked that she did some traditional Indian dance on the runway. It doesn’t completely make up for bad acting, but she’s got some fierce looks.”

“What do you think about Lady Cakes McMansion?” RuPaul asked.

—

Eventually, the queens returned to the stage. 

“Welcome back, Ladies! I’ve made some decisions,” RuPaul began. “Venus Flygirl, Draco, and Lady Cakes McMansion: the three of you flew to new heights in this competition, but one of you really took the cake.” The three queens looked at each other. 

“Lady Cakes McMansion, condragulations, you are the winner of this week’s challenge.”

Lady Cakes beamed as the other queens applauded.

“You’ve won a custom gown from legendary designer, Bob Mackie.” 

—Confessional—

“I WON SNATCH GAME!” Lady Cakes gushed. “I am living, I am gagging — honey, this is everything! ”

—

Venus Flygirl, Draco, you’re both safe.”

Venus and Draco smiled in relief and exited to the back of the stage to join Lady Cakes, Paris, Goldie, and Steve. Only Lorena, Kali, and Intoxia remained at the front, awaiting sentencing.

“Intoxia Madison,” RuPaul continued, “Tonight, your look on the runway is out of this world. But in Snatch Game, your Carrie Fisher impression...failed to launch. I’m sorry my dear, but you are up for elimination.”

—Confessional—

“I don’t want to go home!” Intoxia cried. “I’ve just got to turn. This. Out.” He snapped his fingers.

—

“Kali Sister, your performance as Jameela Jamil took us to a Bad Place. Lorena Gucci, your Ariana Grande made us want to say, ‘Thank U, Next.’” RuPaul paused for dramatic effect while the two queens stood nervously. “Lorena Gucci, I'm sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.” 

Lorena looked unhappily resolved. Kali fell to her knees on the stage and sobbed.

“Kali Sister, you are safe. You may join the other girls.” Kali cried and thanked RuPaul before walking back.

“Two queens stand before me,” RuPaul continued. “Ladies, this is your last chance to impress me and save yourself from elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync for your life! Good luck, and don’t fuck it up.”

The music started up, both queens dancing to a song about fame with everything they had.

—Confessional—

“Ooh, this is gonna be a close one,” Venus said. “Lorena is doing some serious body work with her dance moves, but Intoxia is nailing every single word of the lip sync and spinning herself all over the stage.”

—

When the music finally ended, Lorena and Intoxia posed, breathless, and looked expectantly at RuPaul.

“Ladies, I’ve made my decision. Lorena Gucci, Chanté, you stay.” Lorena bent forward and supported her hands on her knees. When she stood upright again, she pressed her hands together in prayer. Intoxia looked at her sadly and clapped. “You may join the other girls.” Lorena hugged Intoxia before walking to the back of the stage.

“Intoxia Madison, you are a queen with many talents. But this is not your time to shine. Now, sashay away.” Intoxia smiled and blew kisses to the judges and other queens as she sashayed offstage.

—Confessional—

“I could have done better in the challenge,” Intoxia said as she held a figurine of RuPaul backstage. “I’m sorry that I didn’t do right by Carrie Fisher, but I’m not going to dwell on it. It’s time to look ahead to what’s next in my career.”

—

“Condragulations, my crazy eight!” RuPaul told the remaining queens. “And remember — if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love someone else?! Can I get an amen up in here?!”

“Amen!” The queens and judges responded in chorus.

“All right, now let the music play!”

The queens danced. The music was available on iTunes. It had become a familiar drill by this point in the competition, one which Draco was glad to continue for another week.

—After the Viewing Party— 

Draco collapsed in her dressing room chair and removed her Umbridge hat and wig with a sigh. Emceeing the party in that costume had been exhausting. She was startled by a knock at the door.

Millicent Bulstrode peeked her head in. “So, drag can be about celebrity impersonation, can it?” she asked, a calculating gleam in her eye.

Draco returned a calculating look. “What do you have in mind?”

Bulstrode grinned.

—

Sneak Peek for Episode 7:

“The library is open!”

“Every time you open your mouth, a koala reaches in and steals another tiny handful of your brains.”

“This week, you will all be serving us your best jokes in a stand-up routine before a live audience!”

“I think we’ve found the last remaining queen in the entire world who had no idea how microphones work.”

“I’d like to talk to you about an experience that I’m sure we all have in common: BOARDING SCHOOL.”

Chapter Text

—Before the Viewing Party—

Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode strode purposefully into Draco’s drag room at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, both of them smiling broadly as Millicent slammed a small flyer onto Draco’s vanity. 

“Hello to you too,” he raised an eyebrow at them as he set down his contouring brush and picked up the paper to examine it. Teddy peered excitedly over his shoulder. “‘King of Clubs at Royal Vauxhall Tavern,’” he read. 

“Women do perform drag as men,” Granger informed him. “They’re called kings.” 

“We caught a performance last week, and I’ve been getting advice from some of the kings on how I might form my own act,” Millicent added.

“All right,” Draco shrugged. “I suppose you came here to talk to me about getting a spot in an upcoming viewing party? Tonight is too short a notice.”

Millicent nodded. “Safety in numbers, right? I’ve been following the drama in The Daily Prophet. As popular as your little parties have been, your critics’ voices are starting to get louder. Seems like you could do with another drag performer to take some of the attention off of you.” She smirked.

Draco snorted. He was sure that Millicent wouldn’t mind taking some of Draco’s potential tips, either. However, what she said was true. The Letters to the Editor section of their local wizarding rag still included its own subsection of people writing in to complain about Draco’s existence on a public muggle television show. 

Draco wasn’t sure how many of those critics had been attending the viewing parties and seeing exactly how much (or how little) Draco was revealing about the existence of magic to a muggle audience. Rita Skeeter was still writing a weekly column with a synopsis of each episode, and as a result, more people came into the pub to watch the next show on the Bent Unicorn’s enchanted screen. Beyond that benefit, Draco frankly hadn’t given the criticism much thought. If he hadn’t been caught by the MACUSA Aurors for his behavior in LA, he had nothing to fear from a few old grumps with nothing better to do than shout into the void. And he certainly didn't lose sleep over Dolores Umbridge's offence at Draco's impersonation of her.

“How charitable of you,” he replied. 

While they were talking, Granger casually strolled over to Draco’s costume racks and examined them. She held up a small red dress with a white collar. “Are you really going to play Little Orphan Annie?”

“No, I am!” Teddy chirped. He blinked and converted his hair into short, red curls. “Draco’s planning a big show and I get to be one of the acts!”

“Is that so?” Millicent grinned at him, sneaking a smirk in Draco’s direction.

“Next month,” Draco answered. “I’m preparing some numbers that haven’t been performed at the viewing parties yet. Teddy will have his lip sync debut as the opening act.”

“Do you need more performers?” Millicent asked. “If you’re arranging a longer drag show, it seems like you might be able to use some backup, right?” 

“Ooh!” Teddy squealed. He grabbed Draco’s elbow. “Please say yes! Please say yes!!” His hair changed to match Millicent’s short, dark locks.

Draco hesitated. He had only really included Teddy in his show because the boy had been so enthusiastic about it. And once he included the other performers he was lining up, it would turn into a long enough show without adding Millicent. 

“This isn’t just about a simple drag performance.” Granger had put the red dress back on the rack and placed her hand on her hip. “This is about female representation. This is about shattering the glass ceiling! ”

Draco studied them both. Millicent nodded with a shrug. Granger’s expression, on the other hand, dangerously approached the determination that she usually reserved for liberating house elves, standing up to Death Eaters, and slapping h— no, it was better not to risk her ire.

“Tell you what,” Millicent said. “I’ve been practicing my concept and I think I’ve hit on something that will help sell tickets, maybe bring in a demographic that wouldn’t otherwise come, you know?”

“Very well,” he sighed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Millicent beamed. She went up to the vanity and pulled out her wand. Over the course of a minute, she transfigured the shape of her face, turned her eyes green, and added a faint five o’clock shadow. 

As a woman, Millicent Bulstrode was tall and had a very sturdy-looking build. As a drag king, he resembled an eighteen-year-old boy. He unclasped his cloak to reveal a flattened chest covered by a white button-down shirt with a red and gold tie. He added a pair of round glasses, then turned back to the mirror and transfigured a lighting-bolt scar on his forehead.

“I present to you... Harry Gryffindor !” He affected a serious expression and pointed his wand in the air as if he were about to take someone out. “What do you think? Close enough resemblance?”

“Is that all?” Draco rolled his eyes. “If we were still in school, you would be kicked out of Slytherin for that.”

Harry Gryffindor just laughed and began dancing. He removed his tie, then slowly, sensually, unbuttoned his shirt while thrusting his hips forward. Breasts had been spelled to the sides, the leftover curves translating into pectoral muscles. A glamour charm on the rest of the torso presented six-pack abdominal muscles. He continued dancing, giving Draco and Granger smoldering looks.

That was the moment when the real Harry Potter wandered into the room. Harry Gryffindor froze. All eyes turned to the newcomer, who stood in the doorway and gaped.

“Erm,” Harry coughed and turned beet red. “I was going to tell you all that supper’s ready, but I seem to have stepped into the wrong universe. Excuse me,” he said, and left.

After a moment of giggling from Granger and Teddy, Harry Gryffindor spoke up. “It’s obvious he’s never going to strip tease for an audience,” he reasoned. “And, given his popularity as the Saviour of the Wizarding World and the Ministry’s Hotshot Auror, I think it’s safe to say that there is a tremendous untapped market for this type of performance art. Put me in your show. I guarantee we’ll sell tickets faster than you can blink.”

Draco turned to Granger, who blushed. “This is about shattering the glass ceiling,” she repeated, albeit more bashfully than earlier. Draco turned back to the shirtless celebrity impersonator.

“You’re hired. We’ll test your act at next week’s viewing party to give audiences a taste, then add you to our promotional flyers for the show next month.”

Harry Gryffindor smiled and put his shirt back on. Granger and Teddy looked pleased.

“On one condition,” Draco continued, “I want to see Harry Slytherin, too.” 

The king grinned. “That’s my second act.”

“Excellent. Now that’s settled, I have a very weirded-out boyfriend who needs to be convinced why this is a good idea.” 

—Beginning Episode 7—

The queens reentered the werkroom after Intoxia Madison’s elimination.

“‘Sorry Carrie!’” Steve Donovan read from Intoxia’s lipstick message on the mirror. “‘Best luck to all of you, xoxo Intoxia. PS Kim Cardassian 4evah!’” 

Goldie Hanako laughed. “Girl, she really did wanna get her money’s worth out of that prosthetic, didn’t she?”

“Adios, Intoxia,” Lorena Gucci sang as she wiped the mirror clean.

“Congratulations on your win, Miss Lady Cakes!” Paris Davenport grinned. 

“That’s right, this is my third win!” Lady Cakes McMansion grinned from ear to ear as she removed her Wonder Woman headband and wig. “Crown it, baby!” 

Steve flashed her the stink eye. After accusing Lady Cakes of coming for her in Untucked, Steve still appeared to hold a grudge.

“And you’ve survived another week, Lorena,” Draco said, intentionally changing the subject before Steve could pick another fight.

Lorena raised her hands toward the ceiling. “Ay, dios mio! That was too close for comfort!”

“You said it,” Kali Sister nodded. “I hope I never get that close to the bottom again!”

—

That night, Draco was wide awake in bed, his mind flipping through his time on Drag Race like pages in a book. He still couldn’t believe that he not only made it onto the show, but was still there after six eliminations.

When he had first arrived, Draco couldn’t help fangirling over the reality of meeting RuPaul and the other queens. She had even fangirled over meeting Courtney Act — at least, until everything became a chocolate-smeared blur of cakefighting, sabotaged Secret Santa gifts, and poor drag choices. Hopefully, what Draco had lost in terms of Courtney Act’s goodwill would be worth it if audiences would remember her despite her lack of prior fame in the business.

After a few more episodes, Draco had settled into the pattern of challenges and felt more at ease in her ability to excel as a drag performer. True, she had delivered a train wreck of a performance in the cooking challenge, but she had been distracted by her concern over the court case and losing his identity as a Malfoy. That was now over and done with, and there was nothing left but to move forward and give her full concentration to Drag Race.

But that was not what was keeping Draco awake at night.

No, what kept Draco awake was his recent bout of niceness. He had been helping his competitors more than he would have expected. It forced him to wonder if he was losing his strategic, Slytherin edge.

Was Draco turning into a Hufflepuff?

It had started with healing Lady Cakes’ wrists — which, while helping the other queen stay in the game, admittedly had strategic value, endearing one of the strongest queens on the show into helping Draco survive as much as he had. It was that act of niceness that had led Lady Cakes to team up with Draco in the challenge which they had won together — in large part thanks to Lady Cakes’ own comedic chops. 

But there was no such excuse for cheering up a depressed Steve, forgiving Kali for attempted blackmail, even saving Goldie from a randomly belligerent bigot on the street.

Yet there was more to it than just getting something out of helping his drag sisters. The more time he spent with them, the more he genuinely liked them. They were quickly becoming important people in his life — muggle or no. 

Lady Cakes had quickly become a friend, mother hen, and mentor. Draco had also warmed up to Goldie as someone who expressed empathy and joy so freely. Venus, likewise, had become someone Draco enjoyed spending time with. Kali, despite that rocky coming-out moment during the Ball challenge, was becoming someone Draco could share knowing glances with as someone who shared his secret. Even Steve — sweet, dumb Steve, sometimes reminded him of Crabbe in terms of mental faculties and disposition (if not in looks, thankfully).

And yet, this was a competition. Draco needed to compartmentalize these feelings and put his cunning to the sticking place if he wanted to avoid getting sent home in the next challenge. It was time to get back to his Slytherin roots and think strategically about winning.

—

The next morning, the queens skipped into the workroom, singing “Top Eight, bitches!” 

Draco had opted for his idea of a “power outfit” to build his confidence going into the challenge: a three-piece suit made from a kelly-green brocade patterned with gold dragons, a matching green shirt, a gold tie fastened with a snake tie pin made from small peridots, and a gold pocket square. 

Was it a bit much compared to the other queens’ tee shirts and shorts? Was there such a thing as too much on RuPaul’s Drag Race?  Draco was in the mood to be as much as he could. Light reflected off his immaculately styled white-blond hair as the queens gathered around a work table.

“What do you think they’ll have us do today?” Goldie wondered.

“Morning, Racers!” RuPaul’s image on the screen popped up, seemingly in answer to Goldie's question. “Do you have what it takes to really kill it? Or are you more of a bomber? All I know is, you betta make me laugh, hunties!”

The queens looked at each other. 

“Will we be acting in a play about terrorism, do you think?” Draco asked.

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul appeared in the doorway and entered the werkroom in a teal and purple suit. The queens cheered in greeting.

“My legendary children, a Drag Race superstar needs to develop a pretty thick skin. So, in the grand tradition of Paris Is Burning, break out your library cards! Because reading is...what?”

“Fundamental!” The queens chimed in unison and applauded. They had made it to the reading challenge!

“For today’s mini challenge, you will each take turns reading each other. Ladies, the library is open... officially !”

The queens cheered. A member of the Pit Crew walked in with a tray that held a single pair of sunglasses that looked like two bright pink stars. One by one, each queen stood next to RuPaul and donned the sunglasses for their reads. 

The reads aimed at Draco turned out to be a mixed bag of false kindness and shots aimed at his looks. 

Paris began with “Draco, come here, sweetie,” and gestured for him to come closer. 

Draco cautiously approached him and Paris hugged him gently. “Honey, I love you, but this is an intervention. I’m afraid you have an eating disorder.” Draco gave him a confused look. 

“The cake is supposed to go in your mouth,” Paris explained. RuPaul hooted in laughter. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Draco,” Goldie said, “You’ve had a good run so far on Drag Race. I might actually miss you next week.” Draco rebutted with stinkface.

“Draco, you know I love you, baby,” Lady Cakes began, “But you’re so clueless, I think you must have been born a hundred years ago and you time-traveled to the 21st century just for drag and Grindr. Not necessarily in that order.” The queens all laughed. Even Draco chuckled, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he had no idea what was meant by a grinder. 

“RuPaul, what do you get when Draco walks into a bar?” Steve asked.

“Well, I don’t know, what?” RuPaul said.

“A dumb blond joke.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow in response. Oh, is that how we’re playing it?  “I’m sure that only applies to artificial blonds such as yourself,” he clapped back.

Kali continued on the blond theme. “Draco, with your hair, when you wear green, you look like the world’s largest ear of corn with daddy issues.” RuPaul bent over in laughter. Draco spun in a circle to model his green-and-gold suit and flipped Kali a two-fingered salute as he finished.

But Venus gave the most savage read. “Draco, you are a natural blond...for now. Your hairline looks like it’s grown an inch higher since we started filming.” 

“Ooh!” RuPaul shrieked.

Draco gasped. It was a lie...right??

“Draco, I know this reading challenge is going to be a struggle for you because it goes against British manners, so let me help you,” Lorena said, then switched to a high-pitched British accent before continuing, “Lorena, I couldn’t possibly read you!”

Finally, it was Draco’s turn. He donned the pink, starry sunglasses and cracked his knuckles. 

“RuPaul, may I borrow the Pit Crew?” Draco asked. “Because I live by the motto, ‘If you can’t say something nice, say it with bodyguards.’” 

RuPaul cackled. “Ooh, look out, I think we got a shady bitch up in here!” A few queens chuckled nervously.

—At the Viewing Party—

Goyle had joined their little table at the viewing party and flashed Draco a wicked grin. Draco grinned back and they exchanged the secret Slytherin handshake. It felt good to be reminded of old times, back when they owned Hogwarts.

—

Draco smirked at Lady Cakes, who smirked back in challenge. “Lady Cakes, you may talk about how you wear your cakes on your chest, but I know you got that name because of how thick you apply your makeup.” Lady Cakes barked in laughter.

“Goldie, have you heard that saying, ‘Less is more’? No, of course you haven’t. Just like you haven’t heard of a shower.” RuPaul and the others laughed as Goldie dropped his jaw in mock outrage before trying to surreptitiously sniff himself. 

“And Kali—” Draco turned to Kali— “What is your obsession with corn? You don’t need to glue it onto your outfit. You have enough on your feet as it is.” Kali stuck out his tongue, then stuck out a sandaled foot as if to defiantly model his corns.

“Venus, you call yourself a flygirl, but the only flying I see from you are the hairs on those thirsty wigs you keep wearing.” RuPaul doubled over in laughter.

“Lorena, it’s true that I couldn’t possibly read you,” Draco lowered the starry sunglasses to the tip of his nose and peered over the pink rims at her. “Because in order to read you, you would have to write something worth reading, and I’m not convinced you’re literate.” Lorena pouted while the others chuckled.

“Paris Davenport, in the grand tradition of Paris Is Burning, I’m going to read you in French: Un Davenport est censé être assis, mais si vos morceaux de dame brûlent, j'ai peur d'attraper une maladie.”

“Ooh, a French burn!” RuPaul looked delighted. Paris scoffed in bemusement.

“Literally!” Draco cried. “Steve, do you remember how I told you that you’re smarter than a koala?”

Steve nodded apprehensively. 

“The koalas are getting smarter,” Draco continued. “Every time you open your mouth, a koala reaches in and steals another tiny handful of your brains.” The others laughed.

“She done closed the library!” RuPaul cried as Draco handed back the sunglasses and skipped playfully back to his place in the lineup.

“The library is permanently closed!” RuPaul concluded. “All right ladies, good job — but I think we have a winner...Draco!”

Draco took a bow. The queens applauded.

—Confessional—

“I won the reading challenge!” Draco said excitedly. “Honestly, did you expect anything less? I was born for this challenge.” He pantomimed brushing hair over his shoulder.

—

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience cheered.

“I guess being a prat turned out to be good for something after all,” Draco overheard Ron Weasley say in Harry’s ear. He gave the redhead his favourite salute.

—

“Now, for this week’s main challenge,” RuPaul continued, “You will all be serving us your best jokes in a stand-up routine before a live audience!” RuPaul laughed as the queens groaned. “To help you create a winning routine, you’ll each take a ten-minute, one-on-one comedy workshop with legendary funny man, Bruce Vilanch.

“Draco, since you won the mini challenge, you will get an extra five minutes with Bruce, and choose the order in which the queens will perform. Gentlemen, start your engines...and may the funniest bitch win!”

—Confessional—

“This is absolutely terrifying,” Lorena confessed. “I am a look queen! I don’t know how to be funny!”

—

“Do you know how to do stand-up?” Draco asked Kali. 

Kali shook his head. “I can entertain a crowd for maybe a minute at a time between sets at a drag show, but this is a whole ‘nother thing. I’ve never just talked and talked on stage like that before. How about you?”

Draco shook his head. “I’m much more suited to laughing at people than getting them to laugh with me.”

—Confessional—

“We’re all working on ideas for our stand-up routines and the workroom has never been this quiet,” Venus said. The camera panned across the werkroom to show everyone seated at tables, heads bent over notebooks and tapping their pens. “Everyone is digging deep inside their brains trying to come up with something funny. No pressure!” He laughed nervously.

—

“My pen is broken,” Draco muttered. “Has anyone got a pen I could borrow?” The other queens ignored him, concentrating on their own joke-writing efforts.

Draco started rifling around the werkroom in search of a pen. After a few minutes, he plucked the pheasant feather out of the hat he had worn in the Red Carpet Realness challenge. He grabbed a pair of scissors, and, taking one of the scissor blades, began shaving barbs off the bottom few inches. He then cut a small bit off the bottom at an angle until it resembled a writing quill.

A few queens looked up from their notes to watch.

—Confessional—

“I look up and I see Draco wandering around the room and playing with a feather,” Paris explained. “And I think, ‘What the hell is this bitch doing?’ We’re supposed to be writing jokes for our stand-up routines!”

—

After a few more minutes, Draco had found a bottle of green dye and poured it into a little bowl. He dipped the makeshift quill into the dye, tapped it against the side of the bowl to remove excess drips, and began scribbling notes on his notepad with a sigh of relief.

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul called out, entering the werkroom. 

“Hey, assholes!” Another queen called out as she stepped into the room behind RuPaul. The queens cheered. 

“I’ve brought Bianca del Rio here today to help give you some pointers on your stand-up routines,” RuPaul explained. The pair went from table to table and talked to each queen in turn.

“Draco,” RuPaul called as they approached. “A little bird told me you were having some trouble earlier,” he said. “What have you got here?” he asked, gesturing curiously at the quill.

“I couldn’t find a pen, so I made myself a quill,” Draco explained.

“You know, we have a box of pens over in the corner there,” RuPaul answered, pointing toward a shelf with office supplies.

Draco shrugged. “Well, if I’m honest, I did find those when I was searching for the ink,” he confessed. “But I tend to think better with a quill anyway, so I thought this might help.”

“Now that is seriously old school,” Bianca told RuPaul. “Where did you find this bitch, the eighteenth century?”

RuPaul chuckled. “Let’s talk about your stand-up routine. How are you coming along?”

“I’m...still brainstorming ideas.”

“Do you know any jokes?”

Draco blinked. It wasn’t like he could tell the one about the werewolf, the vampire, and the veela who walked into the Three Broomsticks.

“It doesn’t have to be a bunch of knock-knock jokes,” Bianca said. “You could get up there and tell a story. Talk about something we all can relate to.” 

“What’s something from your past that you could draw humor from?” RuPaul asked.

Unfortunately, Draco didn’t feel like anything from his past was funny.

“How about a story from when you were a kid? What were you like in school?”

“I was a horrible prat,” Draco confessed.

Bianca laughed. “Honey, everyone is a horrible prat when they’re a kid.” Draco gave her a faint smile. “Look, no one else has your life experiences. But the trick is to take those experiences and find something about them that you can look back on and laugh at. And then make us laugh with you.”

“And if you can do that, how could you go wrong?” RuPaul added.

Draco didn’t answer. He could easily think of several possible things that could go wrong by telling an audience of muggles about his life experiences. Should he tell them about the bigotry, the bullying, or the atrocities he had committed as a Death Eater? 

“Well, if you can’t be relatable, you can always embrace the weirdness,” Bianca advised. “People love a weirdo. That’s how Tammie Brown still gets work.”

Draco nodded, thinking.

“Tell me, have you made any decisions regarding the lineup?” RuPaul asked.

“Not yet,” Draco answered. “Would you mind sending in Shangela next? I’d like to pick her brain.” Steve and Lorena snapped their heads in his direction and looked nervous. 

RuPaul just laughed. “Well, we’ll leave you to it. Just find a way to be funny,” he advised, and walked away with Bianca to turn the spotlight onto Goldie.

Draco tapped his quill in thought.

—

Draco walked onto the stage for his one-on-one comedy workshop with Bruce Vilanch. After saying hello and a few short words of small talk, Draco launched into his stand-up routine.

“Greetings! Thank you all for—”

“Use the microphone, sweetie, that’s what it’s there for,” Vilanch coached. 

What?  Draco looked around and saw what he had pointed to. The tall, slender metal object stood at the front of the stage. Draco guessed that had to be what muggles used to make their voices louder in place of a Sonorous charm.

Draco stood in front of the microphone, resting a hand gently on top of the device, and began again. “Greetings! Tha—”

“You can pull it out of the stand,” Vilanch interrupted. “Or adjust it. Either way, we need to be able to hear you.”

Draco nodded. If the entire contraption wasn’t the microphone, then he must have meant the short, fat, wandlike stick on top. Draco pulled it out of its holder and held it like a wand, pressing the thinner end to his throat.

“Gr—”

“Okay, so you’ve never used a mic before,” Vilanch wiped a hand over his face.

Draco received a lesson on how to hold a microphone and how far away to hold it from his mouth. He jumped when he heard his own voice amplified across the room. 

“Carson Kressley, that’s what my voice sounds like?”

Bruce Vilanch looked confused. “You know I’m not Carson, right?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Draco replied. “While I’m on Drag Race, I’m committed to keeping my exclamations drag relevant.”

“Oh, good,” Vilanch drawled. “I thought for a second you couldn’t tell us apart. Though I could see how someone might mistake me for him, since we look so much alike.” 

Once the microphone lesson was squared away, Draco ran through his entire routine and got some pointers on content and delivery before the time was up. Draco thanked him and went back to the workroom.

—Confessional—

“Well, that was different,” Bruce Vilanch told the camera. “I think we’ve found the last remaining queen in the entire world who had no idea how microphones work. Draco is lucky she won extra time for her workshop, because otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten around to working on her actual stand-up routine. It will be interesting to see how she makes it through the real thing in front of a live audience.”

—

—Confessional—

“Why do they call it a microphone, anyway, when it makes sounds louder?” Draco asked. “Shouldn’t it be called a macrophone instead?” 

—

Back in the werkroom, Draco pondered how he should assign the lineup of queens in the stand-up show. He hadn’t been fully kidding when he asked about Shangela. He remembered how she had had a strategic approach to a similar challenge on her season, combined with a cunning analysis of her competitors’ strengths and weaknesses as performers. If any queen on Drag Race could have done well in Slytherin, it was Shangela. 

Sure, Draco was no slouch when it came to strategy, but how well did he understand how each queen would influence each other’s performances in a comedy challenge? If Draco wanted to make the most out of this opportunity, he would need to channel Shangela’s ability to play the other queens’ abilities against each other. What would Shangela do?

Moreover, could he play these cards without revealing his hand for what it was, and appearing too strategic, as Shangela had?

Ironically, the more he thought about it, the more Draco realized that he really didn’t care who won or was in the bottom in this challenge, as long as he was safe. He had no agenda to send someone home — at least, not in the specific sense. Someone else would have to sashay away for Draco to stay in the race, simple as that.

He thought about the other queens’ strengths as comedy performers. Lady Cakes was a shoo-in, of course. Venus and Goldie had also proven themselves to be funny in the Snatch Game challenge, so they were also strong contenders for this challenge. Steve, Paris, and Lorena, on the other hand, were fishy, fashion-forward queens who had struggled to be funny. As for Kali — well, Kali hadn’t done well in either the costume challenges or Snatch Game. Draco thought she might be in trouble.

And where did Draco fit into this range of ability? He felt slightly more confident after his workshop with Bruce Vilanch, but as a queen who had never performed before a live audience prior to appearing on Drag Race, he couldn’t predict how well he would fare.

He tapped his pheasant feather quill against his lip and considered his options.

—

“If I may have your attention,” Draco announced in the werkroom as the queens were styling their wigs and steaming their costumes. “I would like to inform you regarding my decisions for the lineup.” The other queens gathered around his worktable. 

“We’ll start with Venus,” he began, pointing at each queen in turn, “followed by Paris, then Lorena, followed by yours truly, then Steve, Kali, Goldie, and closing with Lady Cakes,” he finished.

“How did you decide on that order?” Paris asked.

“Mostly, I just drew everyone’s name out of a wig,” Draco laughed. “Girl, I don’t have any agenda! Who do I look like — Shangela?”

—Confessional—

“This bitch,” Paris rolled his eyes. “Who does she think she’s kidding? She must wanna prove something by having me go on after Venus, but she can think again, because I am going to Turn. It. Out.” He snapped his fingers on each of the last three words.

—

The stand-up comedy routines varied drastically as each queen tried to play to their strengths. Venus opened the show with a story about growing up in the barrio of LA, making the audience laugh as she talked about her first attempts to do drag as a chola dancer. 

Paris struggled at the beginning of her number to recover some of the energy after Venus left, but she picked up momentum as she told the audience about outlandish ways that queens in drag pageants tried to sabotage one another. 

Lorena had incorporated several bananas into a risqué routine. It was more performance art than comedy, but the audience (mostly gay men from various LGBT advocacy groups) appreciated what she could do to a banana without gagging, so that worked in her favour.

Lorena dashed off the stage to cheers and applause, tapping Draco on the shoulder as she waited in the wings. “Good luck, bitch! I left you a banana peel on the stage in case you need it,” she winked. 

Draco shook her head in confusion, then walked onto the stage, careful to avoid the banana peel. 

She was dressed in a Slytherin girl’s uniform that would have gotten any witch kicked out of Hogwarts. Draco had charmed the hem to a shockingly short miniskirt and shrank the jumper to be extra tight around her chest, the neckline cut scandalously low to reveal painted-on cleavage. The blouse was untucked, the ends tied in a little knot that sat high on her waist and revealed her belly button. Underneath, she wore extra padding to create a curvier figure than she normally wore. The hemline of her skirt was raised perilously higher on the thigh than typically acceptable.

Her blonde wig was pulled up into a tall ponytail and she had added palm-sized rhinestone snake earrings. Her fingernails were hot pink and several inches too long to expect a passing grade in Snape’s Potions class. On her feet, she wore six-inch black heels instead of the typical flats that girls wore at Hogwarts. The knee-high socks, ironically, were standard issue.

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience erupted in loud gasps, laughter, and wolf whistles. Pansy Parkinson and the Greengrass sisters squealed in delight.

—

“Greetings! Thank you all for coming out tonight; it’s a pleasure to be here,” she said to the audience after grabbing the microphone and holding it — the correct way — with the large end close to her mouth. 

“As you can probably tell from my accent, I’m not from here,” she confided. “I’m from a bit further east. East Hollywood,” she clarified. A few people chuckled politely in the audience.

“No, not really. I’m from the UK. Any other Brits here?” she asked, raising her hand. No one answered. “I’m the only one? Excellent! Then I could literally say anything about being British and no one will contradict me.

“But really, I’d like to talk to you about an experience that I’m sure we all have in common: BOARDING SCHOOL,” she continued, emphasizing the final words by speaking them even louder into the mic. It got a few more titters from the audience.

“I went to a boarding school in Scotland for seven years of my adolescence, from age eleven to seventeen. The school was in a castle, and my room was in a part of the dungeon next to the lake. We had glass windows that were underwater so we could look out and see the fish. Sounds quite lovely, does it not?”

—At the Viewing Party—

Several people gasped and looked at Draco in alarm.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this, but please tell me the Aurors were okay with it,” Harry begged in Draco’s ear.

“The Aurors were okay with it,” Draco rolled her eyes. Honestly, did anyone think they would all still be there to watch the episode if Draco had violated the Statute of Secrecy and been arrested in the US?

—

“The fish are a bunch of pervs,” Draco muttered. She could hear some confused chuckles from the audience.

“I shared a room with four other boys, nine months of the year, for seven years. Now, let’s take a moment and think about eleven-to-seventeen-year-old boys. There was something we all did in that room, and it wasn’t studying.

“Every night, we would turn out our lights, and I would almost be asleep when suddenly I’d hear ‘shuck-shuck-shuck-shuck-shuck,’” she curled her hand into a fist and moved it up and down to add a visual to her sound effect. “‘Shuck-shuck-shuck’ coming from the bed on my left, and then, ‘shuck-shuck-shuck’ from the bed on my right.” Draco could hear more laughter now.

—At the Viewing Party—

“Sweet Merlin,” Harry shook his head. Greg Goyle, Blaize Zabini, and Theo Nott — Draco’s surviving Slytherin dorm mates — had all turned to Draco and glared. Pansy and the other girls were beside themselves with laughter.

—

“And then, what do you suppose is the proper thing to do in that situation, when one’s mates are all wanking? Why, wank along in solidarity, of course!”

Draco could actually see more people laughing in the audience, and on the judges’ panel now. 

“Do you use that word in the states, wanking ?” Draco looked to the front row and singled out a woman who was smiling at her. “We were masturbating,” she explained to her specifically. The woman laughed, a little red-faced, but didn’t appear to mind the attention. Draco felt truly fired up now, hearing more laughter.

“So there we were, five little wankers,” she continued. “And one night, I happened to look up at the window. What did I see? One really massive fish looking in and watching us!” Draco bugged out his eyes and opened and shut her mouth several times in imitation of a fish, trying to make it look as lecherous as possible. 

By this time, the audience was roaring. RuPaul herself looked like she was struggling to breathe.

“So that’s all you need to know about boarding school,” she continued. “But at the end of the school year, I would go home for the summer. I was an only child, and had a bedroom all to myself. The silence was deafening,” Draco explained. 

“I couldn’t sleep until I got into the habit of imagining the sound of other boys wanking. It made it especially challenging to work out my sexuality,” she told the audience. “I thought, ‘I can’t be gay. That’s my white noise!’” The audience gave another round of laughs.

“Thank you all,” she concluded, “You have been a superb audience. Do enjoy the rest of your evening!” With that, she sheathed the mic back into its stand and walked offstage, feeling confident about her performance.

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience roared with laughter and applauded. Pansy, the Greengrass sisters, and Millicent were all red in the face and looked like they were about to die. 

Blaise, Greg, and Theo were still glaring, which only made the girls laugh harder.

“Solidarity, is that what you called it?” Blaise asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Really!” Granger huffed. “Did none of you think to cast a Silencing charm?!” 

Draco blinked. The boys all looked at her — even Harry and Weasley had dropped their jaws and blushed. Apparently the Gryffindor boys hadn’t thought of the Silencing charm, either, which threw the girls into yet another fit of laughter.

“I can’t believe you told them about Melvin the Pervy Merman!” Pansy cackled. 

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, inwardly grateful for the change of topic. “It was for art.”

“Who’s Melvin?” Harry asked. 

Millicent giggled. “The Slytherin rite of passage.”

Pansy leaned across the table. “Nearly every Slytherin of our generation was perved on by Melvin at the windows, though the merfolk tried to keep him away,” she explained to Harry.

“It didn’t help that some people— ” Blaise looked pointedly at Draco— “put on a show for him now and then. Honestly, it’s like you were trying to be seen, keeping your bed curtains open—”

“Shh, you’ll miss the rest of the show,” Draco interrupted.

—

In truth, they hadn’t missed much. Steve went on after Draco and struggled horribly. She had attempted a song-and-dance gimmick, tap-dancing around the stage with silly facial expressions that didn’t read as funny so much as it was bizarrely avant-garde. Sadly, the funniest part of her performance was when she accidentally slipped on Lorena’s banana peel and fell on her arse.

Kali’s performance, on the other hand, was a hit. She worked the crowd, addressing individual people and reading them for filth to raucous laughter. She even roasted RuPaul and the other judges, which Draco thought took a lot of bollocks.

Goldie, like Paris, had trouble at the beginning of her act in following such a popular number, but quickly picked up steam and received plenty of laughter for her jokes about being a “gaysian” in Chicago.

Lady Cakes had, to everyone’s surprise, choked during her routine. She had attempted some religious humor, but when the audience didn’t laugh at the first two jokes, she got nervous and stumbled through the rest.

—Confessional—

“That was terrible,” Lady Cakes sighed. “Can we just erase that performance from the tapes and pretend I went home sick with the flu or something?”

—

Afterward, the audience left the set and the queens reentered the stage for judging. Kali, Goldie, and Venus all received praise for their routines.

“I think maybe you might have relied a little too much on the visual gag,” special guest judge Amy Schumer told Lorena.

“Draco, I love a slutty schoolgirl look as much as the next person, but the dark green and gray look a little drab,” Michelle told her. “I mean, gray on gray? You could have made this outfit pop with some brighter accent colors. Red and gold could have been so much more flattering.”

Draco made a face like she had bitten into a lemon.

—At the Viewing Party—

The Bent Unicorn was filled with a cacophony of hisses, boos, and cries of outrage from former Slytherins. Members of the audience from all other houses — but especially Gryffindors —  laughed loudly.

—

“Let’s move on to Lady Cakes McMansion,” RuPaul said. “What happened to you out there?” 

“I know it was terrible,” Lady Cakes said. “I think I got too far into my own head tonight.”

“How is your head?” RuPaul asked.

“Usually, I get no complaints, but now I’m thinking someone’s gonna speak to my manager.”

—

Later, in the Untucked Lounge, the queens discussed the critiques they had been given. Kali was unable to disguise her glee at having received enough praise this week that she didn’t fear for her own safety.

“Honestly, and don’t take this the wrong way, but if I had to choose the bottom two based on what the judges said, and this is just based on that, nothing personal, but I think it would be Lady Cakes and either Steve or Lorena,” she rambled, gesticulating her arms more than necessary.

Venus laughed. “Bitch, how much of a lightweight are you?” she pointed at the empty drink in Kali’s hand.

Kali grinned. “I’m just happy with the critiques I got. I don’t feel like I have to worry about going home this time!”

“Cheers to that,” Goldie clinked her own glass against Kali’s.

Lorena huffed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I have to worry, either,” she said. “My look was on point, the audience liked my number, and I deserve to stay here...but I can’t say the same about everybody here.”

An awkward silence followed that statement.

“Bitch, who are you talking about?” Steve challenged.

“Here we go,” Lady Cakes sighed, and downed her cocktail.

“Do you need me to say it?” Lorena answered.

“If you’re talking about me, I think you should just admit it. You don’t think I deserve to be here!” Steve pouted.

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve to be here,” Lorena told Steve as she waved her hand with a bored look on her face, gaslighting over what she had said just a few seconds previously. 

“I’m just saying that your look tonight maybe isn’t as polished as the other girls in this competition,” she explained. 

Steve had opted to wear a burlesque outfit for her comedy routine. It showed off her fishy physique, but there were gaps along the sides of her leotard where the seams were coming unglued. Some of the ostrich feathers in her headdress were hanging at an odd angle. She crossed her arms and huffed.

“But if you want anything, I’ve got a whole box full of shit you can borrow,” Lorena added.

“I’ve got a whole rack of things!” Steve argued.

Lorena and Goldie gave her a pitying look. Draco and the others looked away. They had all seen the contents of Steve’s rack and hadn’t been impressed.

“I’m not being mean,” Lorena continued. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Steve whined in frustration. “No, you are being mean!” And before anyone could react, she grabbed her drink and threw it in Lorena’s face, then stormed out of the room.

A pregnant pause filled the Untucked Lounge as Lorena gaped in surprise. Goldie handed her a napkin.

Draco rolled her eyes. “As much as I appreciate the need for drama in these Untucked sessions, your delivery leaves something to be desired,” she drawled. 

—

After Lorena had had a chance to clean herself up and Goldie had sat Steve down for a heart-to-heart at her vanity, the queens eventually lined up and reentered the stage. 

“Ladies, I’ve made some decisions,” RuPaul told them. “Goldie Hanako, you are safe.” Goldie nodded and went to the back of the stage. 

“Venus Flygirl, you’re safe.” Venus went to the back and held hands with Goldie.

“Kali Sister,” RuPaul continued, “Tonight, you exceeded all our expectations and slaughtered the audience. Condragulations, you are the winner of this week’s challenge.”

Kali beamed. 

—Confessional—

“I WON A CHALLENGE!” Kali punched his fists in the air in victory.

—

“You have won a photoshoot as the next face of BYZGMTX Eyeworks in their new marketing campaign, ‘Read the Fine Print.’” The queens clapped.

“Draco, you’re safe.” Draco curtseyed and went to the back.

“Lady Cakes, you are a divine comedienne,” RuPaul said, “But tonight, your performance was a tragedy. I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.”

Lady Cakes blinked up at the ceiling before nodding her head in resignation.

—Confessional—

“If I go home on a comedy challenge, I’ll never live it down,” Lady Cakes told the camera. “I have got to lip sync for my motherfuckin’ life!”

—

“Paris Davenport, you are safe.” Paris sighed in relief and went to the back of the stage.

“Lorena Gucci, your look tonight on the runway had us going bananas, but your stand-up routine didn’t leave us gagging.” Lorena nodded solemnly.

“Steve Donovan, your dancing tapped into our hearts, but your jokes failed to make us flip.”

“Lorena Gucci, you are safe.” Lorena bowed her head and went to the back of the stage. 

“Steve Donovan, I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.” Steve’s lower lip wobbled as she nodded.

Two queens stand before me,” RuPaul said. “Ladies, this is your last chance to impress me and save yourself from elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync for your life. Good luck, and don’t fuck it up!”

The music started up and both queens lip synced to a loud-voiced woman singing a warning about rainy parades. Steve, who was still wearing tap shoes, proceeded to tap dance all over the stage as she lip synced. Lady Cakes chose to stay in one place most of the time, but served as much face as she could, emoting everything into her lip sync. 

When the song finally ended, both queens reached for each others’ hands and faced the judges.

“Ladies, I have made my decision,” RuPaul said. “Lady Cakes, chanté, you stay. You may join the other girls.” Lady Cakes held up her hands in prayer and nodded. She hugged Steve, then walked to the back of the stage and grabbed Goldie’s extended hand.

“Steve Donovan,” RuPaul continued, “You are a showgirl of the highest caliber, and I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of you.” 

Steve’s bottom lip quivered as she clasped her hands in front of her face. Tears poured from her eyes.

“Now, sashay away.”

—Confessional—

“I’m really sad to gooooooo,” Steve cried to the camera. “Being on this show has definitely meant a lot to me. I may not be a winner, but I definitely deserved to be here, and I think I did my best. Come see me when you’re in Vegas!” She waved and smiled.

—

“Condragulations, girls,” RuPaul told the remaining queens. “You are all one step closer to becoming America’s next drag superstar. And remember — if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love someone else? Can I get an Amen!”

“Amen!” The queens cheered. 

“Let the music play!” The music (now available on iTunes) started up and they all danced. Another queen left, and now just seven remained.

—

“All right,” Harry told Draco and Millicent once they were backstage in the green room. “I suppose I can live with knowing you’re using me as some sort of theme for your drag show... if. ”

“If?” Draco asked.

“If you both agree to help me with my own reality telly audition.”

—

Sneak Peek for Episode 8:

The dolls get political as they all run for president of the United States! “America is finally ready for a drag queen president. Because after one reality show president, what more could go wrong?”

—Confessional—

“I don’t understand what I could bring to an American political debate,” Draco told the camera. “I’m British. I can’t be expected to solve British and American problems! We have enough on our plate just dealing with Brisket!”

“Do you mean Brexit?” a production assistant asked from behind the camera.

Draco blinked, then furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. “Well, of course that too!”

—

Chapter Text

—Flashback—

Draco’s feet landed with a loud THUD on a landing pad in the TSA Portkey Office at Los Angeles International Airport. After the initial dizziness subsided, he began to get his bearings. The room was large, noisy, and noticeably warmer than the portkey office he had departed from in the Ministry of Magic.

“This way, please,” a witch shooed him off the landing pad in a bored voice. 

Knees still a little shaky, he stepped down and to the right, following her direction. Traveling by portkey halfway across the planet had been rough, but a minute of discomfort still beat the twelve-hour horror he was sure he would have experienced if he had used the muggle plane ticket offered by the World of Wonder company. The price of a round-trip portkey ticket — and the added fee to alter the muggle records to make it appear that he had been on the flight — was money well spent in his opinion.

He looked back to see a family of four step onto the landing pad, each grab onto some type of metal pole, and disappear.

“Portkey, please,” a wizard said to him, and Draco handed over the little rubber duck he had traveled with. 

The wizard took it, inspected something on the bottom, and gave it back to him, saying, “International arrivals for non-US citizens in that line over there.” He pointed at a long line toward the far right of the room. “Be sure to have your passport, portkey, and luggage ready for customs inspection.”

Draco went to the end of the line and pulled the tiny, shrunken suitcase out of his pocket. He set it on the floor next to him and pulled out his wand, then cast the spell to bring it back to its full size. He then pulled out his passport and waited in line as two more wizards filed in line behind him. 

The passport was designed to look like a muggle United Kingdom passport, but it had additional pages invisible to muggles. A bored-looking witch behind a glass window inspected this page when Draco finally made it to the front of the line (after what felt like an eternity). She looked up at his face, looked back down at the passport, then back up at him again. Draco stoically refrained from shifting under her gaze.

“Reason for traveling?” she asked.

“Temporary work,” he replied.

“Hmm.” The witch sighed. “Portkey, please.”

Draco handed her the rubber duck. 

The witch cast a spell at it. “This says you selected the NMCS package.”

Draco blinked. “NMCS?”

“No-Magic Confunding Service,” she drawled, giving him an annoyed look for making her take the time to spell out the acronym.

“Oh! Right. Yes, I did.”

“Place your luggage on the table,” she told him, and he did. 

“Are you transporting any live animals, plants, or controlled potions?”

“No.”

She cast a spell at the suitcase and frowned. 

“Your luggage exceeds the limitation for Extension charms in no-mag society.”

Draco blinked. “I was not aware there was a —”

“Really?!” she scoffed, cutting him off. “You thought you were going to, what, just magically pull four suitcases worth of stuff out of just one piece, and hope the no-mags wouldn’t notice?” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “NMCS doesn’t cover that. You’re gonna have to transfigure three more suitcases and repack your baggage before I can stamp you through.”

Draco gave her his most Malfoyish glare. 

“You can do it over there,” she pointed at the end of the table, completely unphased. She then turned her attention back to the line. “I can help who’s next!” she barked.

Draco huffed as he went to work transfiguring three suitcases to match the original and repacked his bags. He felt his face burn with humiliation as he moved flashy gowns, wigs, accessories, and dozens of other items the average man wouldn’t be carrying into the newly transfigured luggage.

His level of annoyance climbed even higher when he realized he would have to wait on the person behind him in line to finish up with the agent before she returned her attention to him.

She looked unimpressed with his displeasure as she reexamined his luggage. “Better,” she sniffed. She Conjured long strips of some type of sticker with muggle flight information and fastened one onto the handle of each suitcase.

“I must say,” he frowned, “I had hoped to avoid this type of hassle when I chose not to fly the muggle way.”

The witch beamed at him. “Why, Sir, this is part of the NMCS package!” she simpered with saccharine delight. “Don’t you want the no-mags to be convinced that you have flown the friendly skies? It’s only appropriate that you arrive looking just as tired and annoyed as if you got off a long flight and went through the regular US Customs.”

With that, she stamped something on a wizarding page of his passport, picked up a second stamp and stamped something else on a muggle page, then handed it back to him.

“Your portkey arrived just as American flight 135 from Heathrow sent passenger luggage to baggage claim,” she explained. “You’ll need to go out that door—” she pointed to an Exit sign beyond her kiosk— “and you will see people coming out of Customs and heading toward Ground Transportation. Follow the flow of traffic and you will eventually see airport exits. Do you have a ride picking you up?”

Draco nodded. 

“Great. Enjoy your stay,” she finished in her bored voice, then looked back to the line. “I can help who’s next!”  

And with that, it was time for Draco to enter the muggle world in a foreign country. It was a struggle to figure out how to maneuver four suitcases simultaneously. He thanked Merlin for giving him the foresight to pick out a suitcase with four wheels on the bottom, and found a way to grip two suitcases in each hand and swivel them out the door.

Suddenly, he was caught up in a river of muggles. They all appeared to be walking purposefully in the same direction — and admittedly, looking just as tired and annoyed as Draco felt. Draco summoned his courage and joined the flow of traffic down one long corridor after another until he came into a larger area with glass doors to the outside. Beyond the doors, he could see muggle vehicles starting and stopping. What were they called again? Art-o-motors? Carmobiles?

His eye caught a group of people in front of the doors holding signs. A man on the end held a bright pink sign that read “Draco Malfoy,” and Draco approached him. He was wearing a black T-shirt, cutoff shorts, and the ugliest sandals Draco had ever seen. Even Harry Potter, The Boy Who Most Certainly Never Lived For Fashion, never wore such a ragged ensemble, but the man seemed to be content with himself.

“Are you from World of Wonder?” Draco asked.

The man checked something on the back of his sign, then studied Draco’s face. “Heyyy, I guess you must be Draco!” he smiled, and reached for Draco’s suitcases.

“I can help you carry those,” he said. “Just the four suitcases? Come on, the van’s just outside.”

Draco followed him. “Is four a small number for luggage?”

The man laughed. “You were allowed up to five!” He walked up to the back of a white vehicle that looked like a smaller version of the Knight Bus, then opened a door and put Draco’s luggage in the back. 

“Everyone else has already been picked up and taken to the hotel already, so you’re our last pickup,” he explained as he opened a side door and motioned for Draco to go in and sit on one of the oddly shaped chairs.

Luggage mishap aside, this was going well enough so far, he thought to himself. Draco’s first solo venture among muggles wasn’t the horror story that his family had warned him about as a child — nor was it the cause for stress that Harry seemed to think Draco might face. He chuckled to himself as he wondered why anyone would think a wizard needed to take a class for muggle studies.

The man got into the front left seat of the not-Knight-Bus and looked back at Draco. Draco only had time for a fleeting realization that the steering wheel was on the wrong side. Weren’t they supposed to be on the right? “All buckled in?” the man asked.

Draco blinked. 

The man — whom Draco now identified as “Dave” according to a little identification card with his face on it by the front window — frowned at him. “Don’t they have seatbelts in the UK?” 

“Er—”

Dave pointed to the belt hanging next to Draco’s chair. “Grab that, stick the metal part into that slot,” he explained, pointing to a small box on the other side of the chair.

Draco reached for the metal part of the belt, trying not to show his surprise when it stretched enough for him to wrap it in front of himself and fasten it in the slot as requested.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” he mumbled.

Dave chuckled. “You probably call it something other than a seatbelt over there, right? Kind of like how a trunk is a boot, and an eraser is a condom,” he mused. Draco had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “What do you call it? A chair strap?”

“Er... something like that,” Draco played along. With that, the not-Knight-Bus took off. 

Draco was in a muggle vehicle and it was moving. And just as suddenly, they had left the vehicle lot and barreled down a road in the bright sunlight. Draco only had a moment to marvel at the sight of palm trees before he noticed that there were other muggle vehicles moving around them, and they were all careening faster than Draco had ever traveled on a broom, sometimes swerving around each other. 

The rest of the ride became a blur of fast-paced vehicles and short buildings spaced far apart by the roadside as Draco gripped the armrests of his chair, white-knuckled. Dave calmly pressed a button on the front of the vehicle and music started playing. The music was equally foreign and did nothing to soothe Draco’s nerves. 

After what felt like an eternity, the not-Knight-Bus finally stopped in front of a hotel and Dave got out, opening Draco’s door and going to the back to remove his luggage. Draco closed his eyes and breathed slowly, never more grateful to have stopped moving. It took him a minute to figure out how to release himself from his chair strap before he could be free of the muggle vehicle of almost-death and escape its terrifying maw.

He took it back. Muggle culture was every bit as horrifying as he’d been taught. As Dave helped him take his luggage up to the hotel doors, Draco reminded himself that he had made a commitment to this adventure. Harry had warned him it wouldn’t be easy. But Draco was determined. He could do this. He would do this.

—Before the Viewing Party—

Draco sat at the vanity in the green room at the Bent Unicorn, applying makeup. After the previous episode had been reviewed in The Daily Prophet, several wizards and witches had written letters to the editor expressing their disapproval. Draco’s slight reveal about Hogwarts and Slytherin’s view into the Great Lake (and implied Melvin the Pervy Merman) had rankled an older generation that saw any description of magical life — however veiled — as a violation of the Statute of Secrecy.

Most disturbing was a letter that threatened to take action if it happened again on the show.

Draco had no control over what was revealed in future episodes. They had been recorded in the past, of course. Draco knew what was coming; he just didn’t know how the wizarding public would react as a result.

Harry entered the dressing room in his red Auror robes, wielding a tray of pastries shaped like golf balls.

“Why Potter, what have we here?” Millicent paused in the act of changing into Harry Gryffindor’s Hogwarts uniform, looking at the food with hungry interest.

“Gougères,” Harry answered, holding the tray out toward the drag king. “Savory choux pastries mixed with cheese. I added a dash of smoked paprika to make these a little more interesting.”

Millicent took a small puff and popped it into her mouth, then closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Mmm! Potter, you’ve outdone yourself! This is absolutely delicious.” 

Harry puffed out his chest in pride. “Thanks, Bulstrode! I admit I was a bit nervous at first about making pâte à choux, but it was a lot easier than I’d expected.”

“At this rate, you won’t have any problem getting cast on The Great British Bakeoff,” Millicent added. “Can I borrow your Auror uniform?”

“Ha! No.”

“Harry, as much as I want to support your baking, I won’t be able to fit into my corset for much longer if you keep bringing me food before a show,” Draco whined. 

“All, right, I suppose I’ll just have to find other friends to share these with,” Harry said, affecting a put-upon sigh. “Can I get a kiss before you finish your makeup?”

“For you? Always.” Draco smiled as Harry leaned over, kissing the blonde gently so as not to smudge anything. “Care for some champagne before you go?”

“Not tonight. Ron and I are on duty. We’ll be scoping the pub on the lookout for any potential sign of trouble,” he explained. “We’re taking any threat against you seriously.”

“My hero.” Draco smiled.

Millicent cried as Harry started to leave, “Oi, Potter, let’s have another of your cheese puffs before you give them all away to the masses!” 

—Beginning Episode 8—

When the queens reentered the werkroom after the last challenge, they saw Steve Donovan’s lipstick message on the mirror.

“'Love you all, no hard feelings!’” Draco read aloud, “‘And watch out for those banana peels!’ Indeed,” she snorted. 

“Love you too, Steve,” Lady Cakes McMansion sighed as she sprayed the mirror and wiped at the lipstick. “Damn, this shit really don’t come off easy, does it?”

Venus Flygirl laughed. “Girl, you’re about the only queen trying to clean that mirror for real!”

“How are you feeling, Miss Lady Cakes?” Paris Davenport asked.

“Girl, I’m shook,” she answered. “I really felt like I was on top of my game, but I psyched myself out. I kept thinking that I had to nail this challenge to prove myself as a comedy queen, and I just got too far into my own head.”

“What are you talking about?” Kali Sister asked. “You won the Snatch Game, and you’re not sure if you’re a comedy queen?!”

“What can I say? I’m my own biggest critic.”

“I’m sad to see Steve go,” Lorena Gucci commented with a sigh as she took off her oversized rhinestone earrings. 

The other queens looked at each other. 

—Confessional—

Paris Davenport raised an eyebrow at the camera. “Girl, what ? Sad, my ass! Does she think we forgot how she read Steve for filth in Untucked just a little while ago?”

—

“I think Steve was getting really self conscious toward the end there,” Goldie Hanako commented. 

“We could all tell she was having a hard time, and she chose to take out her own feelings on others by picking fights,” Lorena added.

“Oh, like you’re any better?” Draco gave her a pointed look. Kali and Goldie gaped, looking delighted at the prospect of more drama.

“ I don’t get childish and throw drinks at people,” Lorena sniffed.

“No, but that cocktail she threw at you didn’t make you any sweeter,” Draco answered. 

—Confessional—

Kali pantomimed eating popcorn with a look of rapt attention.

—

—Confessional—

“Lorena is the type of person to punch down when she knows she’s not doing well,” Draco said. “It helps her feel better about her own performance. What she ought to do is focus on giving the judges what they ask for rather instead of thinking so hard about someone else.”

—

Lorena narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but she was cut off.

“What’s done is done,” Lady Cakes said. Let’s give a big Condragulations to Kali for her win!”

Kali Sister raised her arms over her head in victory. “I’m still amazed that I finally won something!” The other queens cheered.

“I haven’t won any challenges since Week One!” Goldie lamented. “I feel like I’m giving the judges everything I can, and yet it’s still not enough, you know?” 

Paris nodded. “The struggle is real,” she said. “I’m used to winning pageants. This gig is a lot harder!”

The others all agreed. The rest of the conversation dissolved into small talk as they changed out of drag, the aches from their heels and tucks setting in as the high energy of Elimination Day waned.

—

“Rise and shine, bitches!” Lorena, Venus, Kali, and Paris skipped into the workroom the next morning. Draco led a giggling Goldie in a waltz. Lady Cakes trailed behind them and shook her head. 

“Y’all can skip and dance all you want,” she laughed.  

The seven queens gathered around the nearest work table.

“So, what do you think they’ll have us do this week?” Paris asked. That was the cue for the television screen to turn itself on. 

“My fellow queens,” RuPaul greeted them with an air of pomp. “Four score and seven queens ago, I wanted you to compete to become America’s next drag superstar. Ask not what your country can drag for you, but what you can drag for your country. The only thing we have to fear is...fucking it up!”

With that, the screen turned to black. The queens looked at each other. 

“Is this gonna be a Babraham Lincoln challenge?” Goldie asked.

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul chimed, stepping into the workroom dressed in a blue leather motorcycle jacket with silver stars and matching cap and pants, and a red-and-white striped T-shirt.

The queens formed a line as RuPaul addressed them.

“Now more than ever, it’s important for everyone to perform their civic duty,” RuPaul said. “Right now, only one in five LGBTQ Americans is registered to vote. So for this week’s mini challenge, I want you to inspire us all with a photo shoot in your Election Day Eleganza! You have twenty minutes to get into quick drag. And, GO!”

The queens ran to their stations and hurriedly began rifling through wardrobe options. Draco had no idea what Election Day Eleganza was meant to look like. Fortunately, he had decided to dress in a more simple outfit for the workroom that day — just a salmon pink suit jacket and trousers, cream-colored shirt, and opalescent bow tie — so it took less effort to change clothes for the challenge.

By the time RuPaul called them back to the other end of the room, Draco was dressed in a low-cut white dress and pumps with a short, curly blonde wig.

“Very Marilyn,” RuPaul cooed as he ushered Draco in front of a green screen. He held up a camera and started taking photos while Draco posed. “Say, ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President!’” RuPaul instructed.

Draco had no idea what any of it meant, but she did as asked, serving her best duckface while posing in front of a ballot box.

One by one, each queen had her photo shoot, and then went to change back into boy garb.

“Gather ‘round, ladies!” RuPaul called after everyone was finished and changed. “Now, the results have come in, and with just a few hanging chads —” a few queens snickered — “We have a winner: Paris Davenport!”

The screen showed a photo of a seemingly naked Paris standing in an election booth, holding the curtain in front of her with a scandalized look on her face as if she had been caught in the shower. 

Paris beamed in delight as the other queens clapped.

“Paris, you have won a two-thousand-dollar cash prize, and the right to display one of your favorite drag looks in ‘The Art of Drag,’ a new exhibit on drag culture in the Smithsonian Museum in Washington, D.C.,” RuPaul continued. Paris squealed.

“For your main challenge this week, I want each and every one of you —” he looked each of them in the eye dramatically — “to run...for the highest office in the land! America is finally ready for a drag queen president. Because after one reality-show president, what more could go wrong?”

The queens laughed nervously.

“Tomorrow on the main stage, you will have a debate so that America can decide how to cast their votes in our new Frock the Vote challenge. You should have a campaign slogan, and a strong idea what kind of platform you’re running on, so that you can field questions from our panelists in the debate.

“Gentlemen, start your engines...and may the best candidate... win !”

—Confessional—

“I don’t understand what I could bring to an American political debate,” Draco told the camera in bemusement. “I’m British. I can’t be expected to solve British and American problems! We have enough on our plate just dealing with Brisket!”

“Do you mean Brexit?” the production assistant asked from behind the camera.

Draco blinked, then huffed in annoyance. “Well, of course, that too !”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Raucous guffaws filled every corner of the pub. “Were you hungry?” Blaise Zabini grinned at Draco.

Draco crossed her arms. “Maybe,” she groused.

“Good thing your boyfriend knows how to cook,” he winked.

—

Later on, the queens sat in the workroom, tapping pencils to notepads as they tried to think up campaign ideas.

“What are you leaning towards?” Draco asked Paris.

“I’m thinking of playing the smart, female candidate that no one votes for.”

“Why are you bringing reality into this?” Lady Cakes laughed. “Girl, keep it funny.”

“What are you planning on doing?” Paris asked her.

“I’m gonna be old. Like, really old.”

“That’s crazy. I’m gonna be the youngest, most beautiful candidate ever,” Lorena preened, stroking imaginary hair above her shoulder.

“You know you gotta be thirty-five to run for president, right?” Lady Cakes rebuffed. “That’s, like, fifty-seven in gay years.”

Draco nodded. That would explain why so many politicians looked positively ancient.

—

“Hey there, presidential squirrelfriends!” RuPaul entered the workroom with an older blonde woman in a pantsuit. She smiled and waved at the queens.

“I’ve brought my good friend, United States Senator Elizabeth Warren here today! She’s going to help give you some pointers for the Frock the Vote debate,” RuPaul continued. The queens cheered.

The pair proceeded to go from table to table, asking each queen about their campaign slogans. Draco overheard them discussing phrases like student loan forgiveness, taxing the wealthy, and other concepts that didn’t fit easily into his reality.

“Well, hello there, Draco!” RuPaul greeted as he and Warren approached Draco’s work table. “Tell me, how are you planning to approach the Frock the Vote challenge?”

Draco pursed his lips. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I thought it was illegal for foreigners to even run for president.”

“Well, if you want to get technical about it,” RuPaul laughed. 

“I think you can use that to your advantage,” Warren said. “As someone from another country, you have an outsider’s perspective on the United States. What insights do you have about America that you could talk about in the debate?”

“Your healthcare system is a world-renowned travesty,” Draco answered automatically. 

RuPaul laughed. “Girl, that’s some tea right there!”

“That’s a good start,” Warren nodded. “Now, think about what you could suggest as a way to fix that. If you can lay out a plan for the future, you can convince people that you deserve to be elected.”

“Right,” Draco replied. His mind was spinning with vague recollections of American news and retorts that he thought it would be wiser not to say.

“Listen,” RuPaul said, “It has to be something that speaks to every American. It has to be really direct. I’m gonna let you get back to work, okay? Thanks, Draco.”

—Confessional—

“This is going to be a right bloody mess, I swear by Ross’s pink frilly knickers,” Draco told the camera, shaking his head.

—

“All right, ladies,” RuPaul addressed the workroom at large. “Remember — these are tough times, and the future of this great nation depends on you.”

“So don’t fuck it up!” Warren added.

The queens looked back nervously as RuPaul and Warren exited the room. This was going to be a rough challenge.

—

Draco was washing his hands in the loo when a wizard he’d never met suddenly apparated into the room.

“Ah, Draco!” He smiled. “I have mail for you.”

Draco frowned. “ You’re delivering my mail?! What happened to Villareal?”

“Heather Villareal doesn’t work for the aurors anymore,” the man said absently as he pulled a small stack of letters out of a leather satchel and handed them to Draco. “I’m Herb Kong, LA Auror Department.” He held out his hand.

“Pleasure,” Draco shook his hand, still confused. “What happened to her?”

“That information is confidential,” Kong replied. “Anyway, I’ll be lurking around the set in case you need anything. Good luck with this week’s challenge!”

With that, the other wizard disapparated, leaving Draco alone in the loo.

Draco had wondered why he hadn’t seen Villareal at the quidditch park lately. She hadn’t exactly been his favourite person, however, so he didn’t let the news bother him. Kong seemed like a friendlier replacement as far as he was concerned. He tucked the letters into an inner pocket of his salmon suit and returned to the workroom to get into makeup for the challenge.

— 

The queens entered the stage for the main challenge, dressed in their presidential debate attire. Draco had opted for a royal blue suit without a blouse, revealing a deep vee of pale skin underneath her jacket. Her blonde wig was pulled into braids wrapped into an elegant Dutch crown around her head. 

Paris, Venus, and Goldie had chosen similarly conservative looks, donning suits and subdued wigs. Kali was wearing an orange sari. Lorena had opted instead for a hot pink ball gown with cone shoulders and an ice-blue hair loaf. Lady Cakes had donned a dowdy floral dress with a beige cardigan, oversized eyeglasses, and grey hair pulled into a bun.

The stage had been set up with seven podiums. Each queen took her place and nervously made last-minute adjustments before the debate began.

“Good evening, and welcome to Frock the Vote 20__,” RuPaul addressed the camera from the moderators’ desk. “Tonight, we have seven queens on the debate stage, ready to win your vote. Give us your time, and we’ll give you an erection for the election. I am your moderator, RuPaul, and I’m here with my esteemed colleagues, Michelle Visage and Rachel Maddow.”

Rachel Maddow gave a brief wave to the camera as Michelle nodded. 

“Welcome, candidates! Tonight, your answers will be timed. The yellow light—” the camera focused on three colored lights off to one side of the stage— “is a ten-second warning. The red light means your time is up. If you go over, the Secret Service is here to escort you from the building.” The camera showed two Pit Crew members wearing briefs and black sunglasses. 

“Let’s kick things off with opening statements. Venus Flygirl,” RuPaul continued.

”Dear Americans,” Venus began, speaking slowly and carefully. “My name is Venus Flygirl and I am running for President of the United States. I represent the drag community of Los Angeles, and if elected, I will make our country better by—”

The yellow light had changed to red and a buzzer sounded. 

“Time!” RuPaul interjected. Venus dropped her jaw in surprise. 

“Goldie Hanako, same question.”

Goldie appeared shaken by the way Venus was cut off. Her hands shook slightly as she said, “G-good evening, America, I am Goldie Hanako, and I’m here representing — I mean, I’m running for president, a-and my slogan is, ‘Give Our Country a Makeover.’”

“Lady Cakes McMansion.”

“Baby Boomers have ruled our country for too damn long!” she bellowed, slamming her fist on the podium. Goldie and Kali jumped in surprise on either side of her. “So if you want a gerontocracy, why stop with the Boomers? Vote for Ol’ Lady Cakes McMansion and let the Greatest Generation take our country back.” She finished just as the light turned red.

“All right, Kali Sister,” RuPaul continued.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Kali Sister, coming to you from Middle America, and if elected, I will be the first South Asian drag queen president of the United States. I will spice up our country with delicious dal curries and hot Bhangra beats. America: go from bland to grand.”

“Lorena Gucci, your opening statement.” 

“Good evening, I am Puerto Rico — um, I am Lorena Gucci, and we need more Puerto Rico in US government. And sexy. Vote for me and Make America Sexy Again.” Lorena smiled stiffly at the camera and lifted her hand in a pageant wave.

“Paris Davenport.”

“My fellow Americans, our country is one marred by division and discord,” she spoke quickly to make sure she didn’t run out of time. “I am Paris Davenport, and if elected, I will bring teamwork back to the White House. My campaign slogan is, ‘Paris Will Take One For The Team.’ But that’s not just a slogan. It’s a promise.” She nodded seriously at the moderators.

“And lastly, Draco.”

“Americans,” Draco began, “Whilst I have been in your country for just a short time, I must say, your democracy is a sham. Oh, yes! I’ve learned about your electoral college and it is, quite frankly, broken. You’ve gotten yourselves into a right mess, haven’t you? Vote for me, Draco, because you could certainly do worse.” 

Draco was able to finish this proclamation just as the yellow light dimmed and the red light flashed. 

“All right,” RuPaul said. “Now that we have concluded the opening statements, our first question is from Rachel Maddow.”

“Ms. Flygirl, what experiences from your past make you qualified to be America’s first drag president?”

“Well, um, as a choreographer, I have directed teams of drag dancers to learn their moves, and that’s like herding cats. So if I can do that, I can work with Capitol Hill. I will get Mitch McConnell and Chuck Schumer to bop, mop, and shablam until we have our country all moving in sync.” Venus shimmied at the podium.

“Ms. Davenport, same question.”

“I am a pageant queen. I understand competition, and working with backstabbing bitches. I believe the pageant circuit has molded me into someone capable of standing up to Washington insiders,” Paris answered.

“Our next question is from Michelle Visage,” RuPaul continued.

“Ms. Sister, as the first drag president, how would you redecorate the White House?”

“First of all, I would answer your question with another question,” Kali began. “Why it gotta be white? If I am elected, I will make it my mission to paint that bitch a bold new color for every year of my presidency.” 

Kali looked to RuPaul, though he was remaining uncharacteristically stoic throughout the debate. Michelle, on the other hand, pursed her lips to hide a smile.

“Ms. Gucci, same question,” RuPaul said.

“Darling, we need more designers in the White House!” Lorena answered passionately. “Gucci, of course! And Chanel, Gaultier, Versace, Mark Jacobs, Vivienne Westwood…”

—Confessional—

Lady Cakes rolled her eyes. “Girl, really?”

—

“Balenciaga, Dior, Givenchy—”

The light turned red and a buzzer sounded.

“Thank you, Ms. Gucci,” RuPaul said.

“Ms. Hanako,” Rachel Maddow asked, “if you won the wig party nomination, which one of these queens would you choose as your running mate, and why?”

Goldie tapped a long, pink fingernail against her chin in thought, then shrugged. “Hmm, I don’t know! I guess I would wait until I found out if I was nominated before making a choice?”

Michelle raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, before turning to Draco.

“Ms. Draco,” she asked, “As president, what would you do to help the middle class?”

Draco blinked in surprise. “There’s a middle class?” 

The light remained green for several more seconds before turning yellow. “Er, well—” The light turned red. Draco closed her eyes and pressed her lips together before rolling them into a dissatisfied pout.

“Ms. McMansion,” Rachel Maddow moved on, “Politics can get so ugly. Can you give us an example of a time when you made peace with someone you didn’t see eye to eye with?”

Lady Cakes gripped the podium and shook slightly, affecting an arthritic look. “I’m old as dirt, so I’ve seen a lot of ugly, ugly people in my day. And you know what? I’m at peace with that.”

“All right, it’s time to hear the candidates’ closing statements,” RuPaul said. “Let’s begin with Venus Flygirl.”

Venus squared her shoulders. “At the end of the day, I think the American people all want the same thing, and that is to feel like there is someplace where we can belong. And to me, that place is Party City. Vote for Venus, and we can all go to Party City. Where we belong .”

“All right, Ms. Goldie Hanako.”

“Um, I just want to say that I think I would be a good president,” Goldie said. “Our country needs a makeover, and I’m...gonna give it one. If elected.” She smiled nervously and shrugged.

—Confessional—

“Oh my God, just kill me now!” Goldie cringed and buried her face in her hand.

—

“Ms. McMansion.”

“As America’s first nonagenarian drag queen candidate, I bring more experience to this race than any of my opponents. I’ve learned a lot of lessons in my life, like how to survive the Great Depression. How to punch a Nazi. And never take a duffle bag full of crack to an international airport.” 

A few queens snickered. Lady Cakes raised a shaky fist and finished, ”Vote for Ol’ Lady Cakes, and Imma take a switch to Washington and give those whippersnappers a piece of my mind.”

“Thank you, Ms. McMansion. Ms. Sister, your final statement,” RuPaul continued.

“Spice is nice, America! Vote for Kali Sister, and let’s go from bland to grand!” She beamed.

“Lorena Gucci,” RuPaul said. 

“I believe, we got to keep it sexy! I’m here to say, we can bring America to a beautiful love if we come and share peace and work to make it happen. Vote for Lorena Gucci!” She flashed a wobbly smile. The judges looked unimpressed.

“Ms. Davenport, your closing statement.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my platform is based on teamwork. Vote for me, a good old-fashioned drag queen, and I will always take one for the team. I will take it for the gays marching in Pride Parades. For our gays across the country who quietly work together to make the world a better place. And yes, even for the closet cases in Washington. For America . I’m Paris Davenport, and I approve this message.”

“Ms. Draco, tonight you get the last word.”

“Americans, I know you are all frustrated with the politics that have divided your country. So I am extending an olive branch. Let bygones be bygones and forget this silly nonsense. Come back to England. We have all the things you love — dreamy accents, castles, rolling hills dotted with sheep, and quaint little towns with names like Ramsbottom.” 

—At the Viewing Party—

Harry, who had stopped by Draco’s table for a moment as Ron Weasley watched over the room, suddenly let out a loud guffaw. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned Ramsbottom on this show,” he whispered in Draco’s ear. “Should we plan a trip there?” 

Draco just waggled her eyebrows.

—

“I’m not just a posh Brit,” Draco continued. “I’m also willing to rule over you like a queen.” She picked up a small British flag from her podium, waving it emphatically. “A vote for Draco is a vote for the British queen, and a return to the monarchy!” 

The other queens looked at her in alarm.

—Confessional—

“O-okay,” Paris said, “I guess that’s one way to run for president?”

—

—Confessional—

Draco had the presence of mind to look sheepish. “Is it time for me to start in with ‘ Ru Save the Queen ’?” He sang, with the air of someone whistling past the graveyard:

“ Ru save our British queen, 

Long live RuPaul, the queen,

Ru save this queen. ”

He pressed his hands together as if in prayer.

—

“Thank you, candidates,” RuPaul addressed them all. “That concludes our Frock the Vote debate. Remember to come early on Election Day — oh, and don’t forget to vote. Goodnight, everybody!”

The queens shook hands with each other as the camera panned away to a commercial break.

—

The next day was elimination day. The queens chatted as they prepared their runway looks.

“So, what do y’all think about what’s going on in America right now?” Paris asked.

“Where I come from, you don’t mix drag and politics,” Goldie said, applying a glittery blue eyeliner. “People go to drag shows ‘cuz they want to have a good time and forget everything else.”

“I think we’re given this amazing platform on this show to speak up for what we believe in,” Paris responded. She rubbed contouring lines onto her cheek.

Lorena chimed in as she glued rhinestone-studded eyelashes to her lower lid. “Yeah, that’s great, but I’m a drag queen. I’m here to entertain and be fun, not be all serious.”

“I think it’s sad that so few people in the LGBT community are registered to vote,” Paris added. "The people leading this country are making decisions that affect our civil rights, and even our very lives, and we can’t afford not to vote. There’s too much on the line to just sit back and let other people elect the ones who could decide whether we have the right to live or die.”

“Did any of you ever think about going into politics when you were little?” Venus asked.

“I was groomed for it,” Draco admitted, pausing with a lip liner pencil in her hand. “My father expected me to enter the Ministry someday, so I was trained in diplomacy, economics, and twelve other languages…” he drifted off, taken back to a simpler time in his childhood when he felt like he knew what life had in store for him. The conversation moved on to other topics as Draco reflected on that road not taken.

Draco had been groomed for Ministry politics from an early age. But what with the war and his coming out on the losing side of it, all those plans for career success had failed. He hadn’t even made the Daily Prophet ’s prestigious list of 20 Under 20 Most Successful Wizards and Witches of Britain. And with that went all ambitions for a career in the Ministry, let alone Prime Minister.

Really, though, he felt like he had dodged an Avada Kedavra with that one. Even if those plans hadn’t been canceled for him, he had no interest in pursuing them anyway. Drag was much more fun and colourful.

—

The runway theme that week was 1940s Pinup Models. Most queens wore swimsuits, short shorts, or negligees with wigs styled in shoulder-length starlet curls.

Draco posed with her arms extended elegantly above her head at the back of the runway, wearing a shell-pink leotard, black tutu, sheer black stockings, and pink ballet flats. She had styled her wig in a high chignon.

“Ooh, we got a ballerina bitch up in here!” Special guest judge Leslie Jones exclaimed excitedly.

Draco executed a plié, then danced down the runway. 

—Confessional—

“For my pinup look, I am working my ballet skills for the judges. And for the record, I have a twenty-two-inch waist, no corset required,” Draco looked smugly at the camera. “You are welcome to hate me.”

—

“Which way is she going?” Michelle asked after Draco performed a pirouette at the edge of the stage.

“She’s going that -a-way,” RuPaul replied as Draco pointed and pranced across the stage to the left.

“She up there lookin’ for the Nutcracker !” Leslie shouted. “Tchaikovsky betta don’t!” 

—

“Welcome, ladies!” RuPaul began, after the queens lined up at the front of the stage. “We’ve all watched your debate. Now, it’s time for some political analysis from our judges. Let’s start with Goldie Hanako.”

One by one, each queen received judgment for their performances in the debate as well as their pinup looks. Goldie and Lorena were both harshly criticized for not being better prepared during the challenge, but praised for their runway looks. Venus fared slightly better, dinged only for running out of time in her opening statement. Lady Cakes was criticized for wearing a corset over a plain swimsuit, but the judges otherwise loved her performance. Paris and Kali both received only praise. 

“And now, Draco.”

“Bitch, if you gonna serve us some ballet on the runway, you need more than just flats,” Leslie admonished. “Either put on some toe shoes or wear heels! The way you standing right now, you ain’t got no ass.”

Draco looked down at her flat feet self-consciously.

Michelle leaned toward Leslie and said, “She doesn’t pad much.”

“I thought you brought a funny angle to the debate, but you tripped up when you were asked about the middle class,” Ross Matthews commented.

“What would you like to say to Middle-Class America?” RuPaul asked.

“I love you,” Draco looked directly at the camera with a sultry expression and batted her false eyelashes. “You deserve so much more, luv.”

The judges laughed.

“Remember, you’re in the running for America’s next drag superstar,” Michelle chided. “You’re beautiful, but we also want to know that you can think on your feet.” Draco nodded solemnly.

“Thank you, ladies; we’ve heard enough. While you enjoy a cocktail in the Untucked Lounge, the judges and I will deliberate.”

—

“All right, just between us girls, let’s caucus. What did you think about Draco?” RuPaul asked.

“I thought she was funny,” Ross commented. “She slipped a little, but she was unique and I liked that.”

“But her look on the runway didn’t do it for me,” Michelle complained.

“We’ve already had Sahara Davenport and Brook Lynn Heights in toe shoes, and you not gonna wear toe shoes or heels?” Leslie was outraged. “Go toe or go HO !” 

“All right,” RuPaul nodded pensively. “Now, what about Kali Sister?”

—

Meanwhile, in the Untucked Lounge, Lorena was less than pleased about the judges’ critiques. She fidgeted with the strap of a cherry-patterned halter top, giving the others a surly look as they discussed whom they thought were in the top and bottom. 

The tension in the room hit a breaking point when Kali said, “Holy crap, I feel like I got good critiques tonight!” She ran a hand along her shoulder-length auburn wig, pleased with herself. 

“Well we don’t need to hear you bragging about it!” Lorena snapped. The other queens exchanged shocked looks.

“Now, now, there’s no call to get snippy,” Draco replied.

“And we don’t need any comment from you , you... Benedict Cumberbatch !” Lorena sneered at Draco.

Lady Cakes, Kali, and Venus snorted in laughter. 

Draco frowned in confusion. “Who’s Benedict Cumberbatch?”

This time, Goldie and Paris joined in the laughter.

“Girl, did you mean Benedict Arnold?” Kali asked Lorena.

Lorena blinked.

“Benedict Arnold was the traitor,” Lady Cakes explained. 

“Why am I a traitor?” Draco asked. 

“You’re not,” Venus said gleefully. “You’re Benedict Cumberbatch now!” she laughed.

“I don’t get it,” Draco sighed.

“Oh honey, none of us do,” Paris laughed. “Just go with it.”

That was apparently enough to change the energy of the room. Venus, Kali, and Paris started chatting about actors they found attractive, while Lorena and Goldie slipped away to practice their lip syncs, feeling assured they were in the bottom.

—

“Welcome back, ladies,” RuPaul addressed the queens when they returned to the stage. “The votes have been tallied. Lady Cakes McMansion, you created a character who was ahead of your time...but your look on the runway tonight felt...dated.” Lady Cakes nodded. “You’re safe.”

Lady Cakes smiled and went to the back of the stage. 

“Paris Davenport, you told America why you should be president, and gave us much more than politics as usual. And, your ballot box is well stuffed.” Paris proudly smoothed a gloved hand over her satin-covered derrière. “Condragulations, you are the winner of this challenge.”

Paris covered her face with her hands and squealed as the others applauded. 

“And,” RuPaul continued, “you’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip to Washington, DC, to be featured in the 20__ Washington Pride Parade.” 

Paris looked delighted. She joined Lady Cakes at the back of the stage.

“Kali Sister, Venus Flygirl,” RuPaul said, “You're safe.” The pair nodded and went to the back.

“Lorena Gucci, tonight on the runway, you served us a bombshell. But during the debate, you... self-destructed. I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.”

Lorena looked like she had bit into a particularly bitter lemon, pursing her lips in resignation. That only left Draco and Goldie.

“Goldie Hanako, your look tonight really cooked, but your performance in the challenge was... underdone . 

“Draco,” RuPaul continued, “America will not be returning to the monarchy.” She gave Draco a stern look.

Draco gulped. 

“You are safe.”

Draco sighed and nodded in relief. She squeezed Goldie’s hand before going to the back of the stage.

“Goldie Hanako, I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.”

—Confessional—

“Nooooo!” Goldie cried. “I’m devastated, but it’s time to get on with the lip sync, because I’m not ready to go.”

—

—Confessional—

“Ay, dios mio, this is not how I wanted this to go!” Lorena lamented. “I’m not ready to be in the bottom two again. But Goldie is no match for me! I am going to turn. This. out.” He snapped his fingers.

—

“Two queens stand before me,” RuPaul said. “Ladies, this is your last chance to impress me and save yourself from elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync for your life! Now, good luck, and don’t fuck it up!”

“Ooh, here we go!” Leslie Jones leaned in across the judges’ desk in excitement. “Ahh! Dramatic lighting!”

Goldie tossed a little red parasol off the stage as Lorena posed, her profile facing the judges. The music started up . Both queens pantomimed a trumpet solo before leaping into a series of fast-paced dance moves as the drums kicked in. Draco was unfamiliar with the song, but she was impressed with the way both queens handled the lyrics and beats flawlessly.

—Confessional—

“I see Goldie nailing every single one of those words and serving armography, jazz hands, and every move under the kitchen sink,” Kali commented, “And then I see Lorena is keeping up with her word for word, move for move.”

—

“Yeah!!! Give us that USO Show realness!” Leslie cried.

—Confessional—

“BAM! These bitches are killin’ it!” Venus exclaimed. “They both look like they jumped out of some World War II dance party, but with, like, five hundred percent more shablams and swiffering the stage with their taints. And I’m thinking, I don’t know who’s gonna win this lip sync. This is really close!”

—

As the song ended, both Lorena and Goldie landed in the splits at the exact same beat. 

“Oh, my LORD !” Leslie Jones looked like she was about to have an aneurism. The judges applauded. The queens in the back raised hands in tribute.

Lorena and Goldie grabbed each other’s hands as they faced RuPaul.

“Goldie Hanako,” RuPaul began, “chanté, you stay. You may join the other girls.” Goldie nodded in desperate gratitude. She hugged a despondent Lorena before walking back.

“Lorena Gucci,” RuPaul continued, “I know this didn’t turn out the way you had planned. But I hope it makes you an even fiercer queen. Because your time here,” she paused for dramatic effect, “is not over.”

The queens gasped. Lorena fell to her knees and sobbed.

“This is the land of opportunity. By the power vested in me, chanté, you stay! You both get the opportunity to live for another week!”

Everyone clapped.

“Condragulations, my queens! Now remember — if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love someone else? Can I get an Amen in here?!”

“Amen!”

“All right, now let the music play!”

—After the Viewing Party—

After the episode ended, Draco introduced Harry Gryffindor for his first performance. The crowd roared. Knuts, sickles, and even a few galleons soared onto the stage. To Draco’s utter dismay, Harry Gryffindor was a hit, that bitch. 

There hadn’t been any sign of trouble in the pub, either, even after the threatening letter. Draco wasn’t sure whether that had more to do with Harry and Weasley’s careful watch as aurors on duty, or the lack of anything potentially revealing about magic in this episode. Either way, Draco counted it as a win — at least, for this week.

—

Sneak Peek for Episode 9:

The competition takes a magical turn when the queens perform a magic show for a live audience!

The magician held up a matchbook and stared intently at it. He waved his other hand, and suddenly the matchbook burst into flames. 

“Whaaaaat?!” Draco cried. He gave the magician a baffled look, his eyes popped and jaw dropped. The queens cheered and applauded.

—Confessional—

“Oh my God, who are you and what have you done with Draco?” Venus laughed. “This queen is acting goofy as hell! I have never seen her laugh so much. It’s like she’s never seen a magic trick before in her life.”

—

Chapter Text

—Before the Viewing Party—

Draco closed his eyes in concentration, then waved his wand over his head and spoke. 

“Geminam germanam meam ego sum.”

He could feel the change. Bones lengthened; skin split; muscles stretched to accommodate new limbs. Fabric extended to cover the new appendages. He was close, and getting closer, when suddenly Blaise Zabini unceremoniously walked into the room, holding a newspaper.

“Say, Draco, Potter told me I could find you here. Have you seen this rag?” When Blaise looked at the sight before him, his jaw dropped in surprise.

“Careful, Blaise, or you’ll let flies in,” Draco drawled.

“Well,” Blaise chuckled. “This is a new look for you.”

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at an inconvenient time,” Draco rolled one set of eyes.

“Draco, you have two heads.”

“Yes.” The other set of eyes now rolled. “How is your mother?”

“Visiting my grandparents in Nigeria, and don’t change the subject. Why do you have two heads? For that matter, why do you have three arms and three legs?”

“I’m experimenting with the Doubling Charm,” Draco explained with his left head. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” his right head continued. “As you can see, I still have some work to do.”

“Yes, I do see that.”

Draco scrunched his face in concentration. After a moment, his heads merged back into one. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief and briefly shook his arms and legs before stretching his left arm across his right side. 

“There’s no record of anyone casting the charm on a living creature, let alone themselves, so I’m testing out ways of combining it with some transfiguration spells for animagi,” Draco explained. He sagged into his vanity chair. “I’ve yet to successfully split my entire body. With some more practice, I think I can get there, but I can only do so much at a time before I get a massive headache.”

“Setting aside for a moment that I think living with a Gryffindor has rubbed off on you in a frightening way, would you say that you have a... splitting headache?” Blaise grinned.

“You’re horrible and I refuse to encourage you.”

Blaise grinned. “That’s why we’ve remained friends since Hogwarts.”

“Keep telling yourself that, if you like.” Draco smirked and sat at his vanity. “Now, what were you meaning to show me when you came in?”

“Oh, right!” Blaise held up the newspaper he had brought with him. “I thought you might want to see this. 

It was a British muggle journal focused on LGBTQ issues. The headline on the front page read:

DRACO: Sorry America, We Haven’t a Clue

“They say they’ve never heard of you before you showed up on Drag Race,” Blaise explained. “Apparently, you’ve made quite the impression. They’re rather baffled.”

“I suppose I should consider taking on some muggle gigs, maybe. Mariah and Dean have been pushing me to create my own video show for muggles. Have you heard of something called The Tube?”

“Isn’t that the underground train system?”

Draco shook his head. “Maybe it was Your Tube, or Video Tube. There’s a tube in there somewhere.”

“Fascinating. I tip my hat to you for keeping up with all their muggle names and brands. I know I can’t remember them all half as well as you.”

“I’m building my empire,” Draco said with a shrug. He cast a quick Tempus. “Say, I need to tell Harry something. Care to join me?”

They walked down the hall and down the stairs towards the kitchen. 

“He’s working on his Bakeoff audition,” Draco told Blaise by way of an explanation as they heard loud clanking and rattling of pots and pans as they approached. 

“Baker! You have five minutes left!” Draco hollered into a thick cloud of flour that had overtaken the kitchen.

“Bloody fuck!” Harry appeared on the other side of the kitchen island, a white spectre with flour covering his clothes, apron, hair, and glasses. His hands, mysteriously, were bright blue.

“Language, Potter. There shall be no fucks given on the BBC!”

Harry nodded and frowned at a pot of caramel that was burning on the hob.

“May I ask why his hands are blue?” Blaise asked in a whisper.

“I wouldn’t. He’s working on speed this round. He won’t be ready to interact with a camera crew until at least next week.” Draco steered them back out of the room.

“You know how he is about photographers,” Draco added. “Getting him adjusted to having a camera in his face is going to be an entirely different challenge. Once he’s comfortable baking within the time limitations, Millicent and I will put him through rigorous television personality training by bringing in a camera and asking him question after question about his baking.”

Blaise laughed. “Well. If he can get used to your charming personality, then the BBC should post no problems for him.”

“I agree,” Draco grinned. “Now, I really must begin to get ready for tonight’s show. Will you be there?” 

“Planning on it. Any big surprises that you can tell me about? Pansy is running a betting pool on who’s going to win the main challenge.”

Draco smiled. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now, would it?”

Blaise shook his head. “You only say that because she won’t let you place a bet.”

“Of course! Now, shoo. Mama needs her mirror time.”

—Beginning Episode 9—

The queens reentered the workroom in their pinup outfits.

“Ugh, that was too much!” Kali Sister sighed, wasting no time before stripping off her wig and heels and collapsing on the sofa in the workroom.

“We’re both still here!” Goldie Hanako grabbed Lorena Gucci’s hand and waved it above their heads.

“Oh, dios mio!” Lorena cried in relief. “I thought for sure you were going home.” Goldie and the others laughed.

“There’s still seven of us.” Paris Davenport commented. There was a faint edge of bitterness to her tone. “I really thought I would have sent another one of you bitches home this week.”

“Ta,” Draco said. She perched on the edge of the couch in her 1940s pinup ballerina outfit. Lorena frowned.

“And how are you feeling, Miss Thing? It was almost you in the bottom, too.”

Draco raised a painted eyebrow. “Be glad I didn’t lip sync,” she replied. “I would have danced circles around you, literally.”

“You’d have to do something special, with that sorry ass ballet outfit you got on.” Lorena clapped back. Draco shook her head and flipped her off in the American style. American queenly manners were starting to rub off on her.

—Confessional—

“I can tell Lorena is still feeling a certain type of way,” Kali Sister commented. “After that last challenge, she knows she’s struggling, so she wants to see some of the other girls come down a peg.”

—

As the queens got out of drag and prepared to go back to the hotel for the night, Draco looked around the room. The past several weeks had felt like an intense journey in multiple ways. His approach to drag had grown and stretched with each challenge, for one. He wasn’t sure he would even recognize the queen who had entered the workroom in the first week. 

Then there was his understanding of muggle culture, which had undergone a similar metamorphosis. He was realizing now that he had entered the competition without any real awareness, diving headfirst into a deep ocean of drag culture that was incredibly referential. Queens didn’t just make passing references to queens and goings-on from previous seasons of Drag Race. They referenced everything. It was at times overwhelming for Draco to stay afloat in conversation and the challenges without knowing the tiniest fraction of what they were talking about. If nothing else, he kept adding to his notebook of movies, television programmes, and songs to acquaint himself with after he returned home — and improved his skills in pretending to follow along. 

He was a little worried that this ignorance would catch up with him sooner or later. But for now, he would continue to rise to the challenges as best as he could.

Finally, there was his relationship with his fellow queens. This had been another intense journey over the past several weeks. Sure, they ribbed and sniped at each other. But even that reminded him of life in Slytherin House. It almost felt like they were becoming a family to him. Again, he caught himself wondering what would happen after he left the show. Would he still connect to them once he returned to the wizarding world?

—

The next morning, Draco thought the production assistant who was taping a wire mic onto him looked familiar.

“Hi Draco,” Herb Kong, Heather Villareal’s replacement auror watchdog greeted. He was dressed as a production assistant. He winked and gestured toward another man and a woman standing next to him. “This is Basil and Paprikah. I’ve brought them in as backup today.”

Basil and Paprikah nodded, then wandered off to help some of the other queens into their mics.

“Backup? Why would you need backup?”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.” Kong winked. “Really, it’s just a formality. I’m sure you won’t give us any reason to suspect you of doing real magic in front of the no-mags.” With that, he, too, walked away, leaving Draco confused and slightly worried.

—

“Good morning!” Goldie, Kali, and Venus sang as they skipped into the workroom, the others following. Draco wore his cropped midnight blue T-shirt revealing his name and constellation, along with grey trousers, silver suspenders, and a blue straw boater hat.

“It’s a brand new day in the workroom” Venus cried. “And, we still have seven queens this week. Which one of you am I gonna send home?” He laughed.

“Ooh, bitch!” Goldie squealed. “Don’t look at me!”

“Morning, Racers!” RuPaul’s face appeared on the large television screen. The queens gathered round to listen. “My queens, are you ready for the future? It’s time for you to look deep within yourselves and find that special talent you possess. Then lift your magic wands and say, ‘Abra Cadabra! Hocus Pocus, bring this talent into focus!’ Hee hee!” 

The queens cheered.

Draco frowned in confusion. “What the—”

“Hello, hello, hello!” RuPaul stepped into the workroom, dressed in a three-piece suit patterned with muggle street signs.

The queens fell into single-file formation as they waited for RuPaul to address them.

“Are you feeling intuitive?” RuPaul asked them. “For this week’s mini challenge, I want each and every one of you to reach deep down and feel...your gut.”

A few queens chortled in surprise.

“You’re going to show me how well you can see into the future as psychic operators for my new hotline, Divining Divas.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“One at a time,” RuPaul continued, “You will pick up the phone to help a mystery caller with a really special problem that only a psychic could solve. I’m counting on you to use your powers of improvisation to tell us the future! Oh, and make sure the future is funny — because the one who makes our mystery caller laugh the most wins!

“Now, you have twenty minutes to get into your most divine quick drag. Your makeup stations have been stocked with makeup supplied by Salmon Buffet.”

Several queens cheered. 

“And....GO!” RuPaul finished, and the queens rushed to their stations.

Draco rushed to figure out what a muggle psychic would look like, then shrugged and threw on a mishmash of shawls and scarves with a ratty cardigan and skirt.

“Thank you, Salmon Buffet!” Venus loudly exclaimed as she painted her face with bright purple glitter.

Draco decided that she might as well go full-on Trelawney, as her main source for psychic fashion, and smeared on some messy makeup before adding a tangled dirty-blonde wig and enormous glasses.

When it was her turn, Draco was directed to a corner of the workroom where a small table had been laid out with a crystal ball, a deck of tarot cards, a few decorative odds and ends, and what Draco assumed had to be the phone. She had seen phones before; they were slender rectangles. This was nothing like it at all, a lumpy pink sculpture with a tightly wound cord attached at two points. She could barely make out the profile of someone sitting behind a partition screen.

After she sat down, an odd ringing sound filled the air.

Draco looked around uncertainly.

“Draco,” RuPaul said after a few moments, from where he was standing off to one side. “You’ll need to answer the phone.”

Draco blinked. “Yes…?”

RuPaul laughed. “Now I know you know how to use a phone.”

“The kind with a screen, yes,” Draco answered.

“Well, this one isn’t that smart. It’s a dumb phone.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” She nodded. “I’ll just...answer...the dumb phone.” She picked the lumpy device off of the table.

“Bitch, all you kids are making me feel old today!” RuPaul laughed and shook his head. He then gave Draco a quick tutorial on how to lift the handle from the receiver, and which end to hold in front of his mouth and which to hold up to her ear. The figure behind the partition laughed. 

Draco was now an expert at answering all manners of phone. The ringing sound resumed, and Draco picked up the phone—properly this time.

“Hello, Divining Divas! I knew you were going to call,” Draco answered like a smug Trelawney. “I suppose you’d like to know what the future has in store for you?”

“Actually, I was kinda wondering if you could hook me up with a ghost,” the person behind the partition said. 

“Oh! Well,” Draco slipped out of her Trelawney voice as she contemplated this request, her accent growing rougher. “What kind of ghost would you like? Ancient Roman soldier, creepy child, or maybe a Victorian whore suit your fancy?”

“Ooh, gimme a Victorian whore,” the voice answered enthusiastically.

“All right then.” Draco turned her head and called over her shoulder. “Bernadette! We’ve got a live one for you!” She turned back to the phone. “She’s interested, but she says it’ll cost extra if you want the full slap and tickle.”

The voice laughed. “Sure, put her on.”

Draco switched the phone to her other ear. Her accent went even coarser as she said, “‘ere now, luvvie, I’m takin’ off me stockin’s fer ya! Ooh, me ankles are bare!”

RuPaul laughed. “Okay, I think we need to cut this short before our legal team hears back from the censors.”

—

“Oh my goodness, the stars are telling me that y’all are gifted with the second sight!” RuPaul announced after each queen had had her turn at the phone hotline. “I just hope our mystery caller kept the receipts. Do you wanna know who she is?”

The queens cheered. “Yes!”

“Why, it’s one of my very own drag daughters from Season Seven and All Stars Season Two, Katya Zamolodchikova!”

Katya stepped out from behind the partition and posed theatrically. “Hello!” The queens cheered. 

“Now, of all you mediums,” RuPaul continued, “one of you was extra large. The winner of this challenge is...Venus Flygirl!” 

Venus jumped up and down and squealed. “I knew you were gonna say that!” 

“You have won a two-thousand-dollar gift card for Wild Hairs — the wigs for queens who want to stand apart from the crowd.” 

The other queens oohed and ahhed as Venus clapped in delight. 

“Katya, do you have any words of wisdom for your Drag Race sisters?” RuPaul asked.

Katya appeared to ponder this question seriously. “Watch out for falling rocks,” she said sagely, “in about two hours.”

The queens laughed and applauded. Katya waved and headed for the door. “Goodbye...goodbye...goodbye,” she smiled maniacally as she exited.

“Now, ladies!” RuPaul called the queens back to attention. “For this week’s maxi challenge, you’ll need to razzle dazzle, mystify, and amaze — as you star in your very own... magic show!”

Several queens ooh’ed and clapped their hands. Draco furrowed his brows, jaw dropped. Magic had never been a performance art in his understanding of the universe. Kali, the one queen who knew Draco was a wizard, shot him a look that implied that he wanted to be on Draco’s team for this challenge.

“Now, you’ll be performing in two teams before a live audience,” RuPaul continued. “Venus, since you won the mini challenge, you get to choose your sisters.” Venus smiled deviously. “So, Venus, who is your first choice?”

Venus pondered this issue. “Hmm, Lady Cakes.” Lady Cakes placed a hand on his chest and mock curtsied.

“All right, and who is your second choice?”

“I’m going to say...Kali!” Kali grinned and walked over to where Venus and Lady Cakes were standing.

“And your third choice?” RuPaul pressed.

The rest of the queens preened. Kali tried to surreptitiously cough “Draco!” under her breath. Lorena smiled extra sweetly and batted his lashes at Venus.

Venus shrugged. “Lorena, come on over here, girl!” Lorena beamed and skipped over to join the other three as Kali’s smile faded.

“That means that Goldie Hanako, Draco, and Paris Davenport will be working together on the competing team.” RuPaul concluded. The trio stepped closer to each other and joined hands.

“Now, in addition to performing professional illusions, you’ll need to come up with a name for your magic act, write captivating dialogue, and create a magical look — using makeup provided by Salmon Buffet.”

“Werk!” a few queens exclaimed, waving hands in the air. 

“Gentlemen, start your engines...and may the best lady magician win!”

—

Paris and Goldie took the lead in brainstorming ideas for their magic act. 

“Okay, so, how do we want to approach this challenge?” 

“I think this is a great opportunity for us to just be goofy as hell,” Goldie said. “I’m so excited about this!”

“What do you know about magic?” Paris asked.

It had been so long since Draco had been surrounded by magic that he was starting to feel a little off kilter. The idea of a magic challenge made him feel practically manic.

“Maybe we need to figure out what kind of act we’re gonna have first,” Goldie said. “Then that’ll help us figure out what kind of magic we should do, right?”

“What if we’re sisters?”

“Maybe sorority sisters?”

“We could be hookers.”

“Or, how about if we dress up like old women?”

“Old women? Hmm. Draco, you’re being awfully quiet,” Paris commented. “What do you think? What kind of trio should we be?”

Draco tapped his finger on a notepad. He felt too out of his depth in this conversation, not even knowing how to begin to comprehend muggle “magic.”

“I think we should be sexy,” he finally deliberated. “How about sister hookers?”

Goldie laughed. “Sorority sister hookers!”

“Okay,” Paris agreed. “Which sorority? We need to come up with one that doesn’t already exist, or else we’ll get a bunch of Beckys coming after us when the show airs.”

The queens were quiet as they tried to think of a sorority name. Or, at least, Paris and Goldie were trying to think of a sorority name while Draco pretended to think, since he had no idea what a sorority was.

—Confessional—

“I look across the room at the other team because they’re all very quiet, and I see they have all the queens with no talent,” Lorena smirked. “They got a look queen, a fashion queen, and...whatever the hell Draco is supposed to be. I don’t even know why that bitch is still here. I mean, what can they bring to this challenge?”

—

RuPaul approached their group as they sat on the sofa of the workroom.

“Abra Cadabra, ladies!”

Draco tried not to wince. How could muggles be so casual with a phrase that sounded uncannily like the killing curse?

“Hi, Ru!” They all replied simultaneously.

“Now Draco, I heard that Kali wanted Venus to pick you for their team. Why do you suppose he chose Lorena instead?” RuPaul asked, stirring the pot immediately.

Draco shrugged and looked at the other two. “Maybe he has more confidence in his ability to make Lorena disappear at the end of the challenge.”

RuPaul laughed. “All right, so tell me, what do you all have planned for your magic show?”

The three looked at each other. “We think we’re going to be sorority sisters who like to turn some tricks on the side,” Goldie said coquettishly.

“Okay! Now, do any of you have any experience with magic?”

Paris and Goldie shook their heads. “None at all,” Draco replied. He snuck a glance at Paprikah, who was standing just off the screen and watching with interest while holding some type of camera equipment.

“Well, you know, drag itself is a type of magic,” RuPaul explained. “We’re all turning ourselves into women with some duct tape and a bit of paint and powder. And that’s really the kind of ingenuity we’re looking for in this challenge.” The queens nodded. “Do you have a narrative for your act?”

The three flipped through their notepads nervously. “We’re sort of exploring a few ideas,” Paris answered.

“Well, listen ladies, I cannot wait to see what you bring to the stage. I’ll leave you to it!” And with that, RuPaul walked over to the other team and began asking them questions about their act.

Draco looked at Paris and Goldie. How were they going to pull this off without landing in the bottom?

“Okay, let’s just start writing down some dialogue and see if it gels into anything,” Goldie said, sounding just as rattled as Draco felt.

—

Later that day, all seven queens headed to the stage to meet a magician who would teach them magic tricks for their acts. Draco had no idea what to expect.

“My name is Mesmer Jones, and I’m a magician and a mentalist from Las Vegas. RuPaul invited me here to teach you all some magic.” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Are you ready for some magic?” he continued. The queens cheered.

The magician held up a matchbook and stared intently at it. He waved his other hand, and suddenly the matchbook burst into flames. 

“Whaaaaat?!” Draco cried. He gave the magician a baffled look, his eyes popped and jaw dropped. The queens cheered and applauded.

—At the Viewing Party—

Those in the audience who were either muggleborn or had some familiarity with muggle magic tricks (hello, George Weasley) burst into laughter at Draco’s reaction to seeing a trick for the first time.

Others tittered in amusement when they saw the tricks the queens were learning.

—

One by one, Mesmer Jones taught each queen a “magic trick.” Draco stifled a giggle when the magician showed Paris how to make flowers appear out of a plastic wand. He pursed his lips together and hugged himself, struggling against more giggles as Lady Cakes learned how to make a coin appear and disappear. When Goldie worked on magically hiding a salami, the giggles could no longer be contained. Draco covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking, his face turning bright pink. The other queens shot him quizzical looks.

—Confessional—

“Oh my God, who are you and what have you done with Draco?” Venus laughed. “This queen is acting goofy as hell! I have never seen her laugh so much. It’s like she’s never seen a magic trick before in her life.”

—

Eventually, it was Draco’s turn. He jumped up onto the stage and shook Jones’ hand with his lips pursed in mirth. 

“So, I’m gonna teach you a card trick,” Jones told him. “I’ll be honest with you, this is actually kind of a hard trick.”

Draco nodded. “Let’s see it, then.”

Jones took a playing card and appeared to spin it in the air between and around his hands. Draco burst into laughter, his face turning pink.

—Confessional—

“So this is magic?” Draco laughed. “Why have I never learned about this?!”

—

—At the Viewing Party—

Several members of the audience laughed along with Draco. Harry, who had been monitoring the pub for any sign of a threat, worked his way back to the side where Draco was sitting and whispered in his ear.

“You didn’t mention that this episode was going to be about magic.”

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Harry huffed and went back to patrolling the pub. Draco couldn’t worry about what people might think at the moment. The episode was already recorded and the wizarding world was going to find out how far the magic would go, as stoppable as a train.

—

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught Herb Kong watching from offstage. They made eye contact, and Draco waited for a short moment to see how he would react. The man shrugged and motioned for Draco to keep working with Jones.

Well. If it was fine with the LA Aurors Department, then it was fine with Draco. These were muggles, after all, and it wasn’t like Draco was performing real magic.

Jones handed Draco the card and showed him how to hold it. Draco learned that a very thin wire suspended the card and wrapped around his fingers, so he only needed to practice maneuvering the wire until he could control the direction. 

He giggled as he stepped off the stage, playing with his new toy. Goldie grinned at him.

“Well, look at you, Miss Thing! And you said you couldn’t do any magic. You’re a natural!”

Draco laughed.

As they marched back to the workroom, he had an idea. Maybe it was mad, but...maybe it would work.

“Do you mind if we do some rewriting for our act?” Draco asked Goldie and Paris. “I’ve had a burst of inspiration.”

Paris gave him the side eye.

—Confessional—

“Girl.” Paris raised her eyebrow. “I still remember when you said you could work with Hair of the Dog in our cooking show challenge. Are you sure you can turn this out the way you think you can?”

—

Draco grabbed his quill and notepad and began frantically jotting down notes. A production assistant came in and called them all away to Craft Services for dinner; Draco stayed behind, a growing pile of notepapers cluttering the area around him on the table. By the time everyone else returned, he had their entire magic skit storyboarded.

“Holy shit, you changed a lot,” Paris said, her eyes practically the size of saucers.

“What do you think?” Draco asked.

Goldie gave the notes a thoughtful look. “You know, I kinda like it. Especially since you didn’t change my lines all that much,” he laughed.

Paris shrugged. “Sure, let’s try running through it.”

—

On Elimination Day, the queens reentered the workroom. Draco, Paris, and Goldie had stayed up late to rehearse their act, but felt confident. At least, Draco felt confident that their act would be entertaining. He hoped the aurors would see it that way, too.

When it came time for the show, Venus and her team went first.

“Let the magic show begin!” RuPaul announced.

The Quartet of Sorceresses, as they called themselves, made for passable entertainment. Lady Cakes and Venus stood out, working the crowd and getting as many laughs as they could with their shtick in between tricks. Lorena and Kali struggled somewhat, their nerves showing. There were a few awkward pauses as they fumbled to get Lorena to appear from behind a large curtain.

Finally, Draco, Goldie, and Paris entered the stage wearing tight pink cardigans over glitter-covered gold corsets and panties. They twirled around to reveal the backs of the cardigans, which each had a mishmash of Greek letters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, do we have a show for you!”

“I’m Paris.”

“I’m Goldie.”

“And I’m Draco!”

“And we’re…”

“The sisters of Alpha Beta Gamma Omega Zeta Jones!” they chimed in unison. The audience clapped appreciatively as they each struck a pose.

“We’re three sorority sisters who go to a school for magic,” Paris explained.

“And turn some tricks on the side!” Goldie added.

“Tonight, you will see things that you won’t believe…” Draco said.

“Like Paris’ tuck!” Goldie interjected, and waved jazz hands at Paris’ crotch as Paris posed appropriately.

“Prepare to be amazed…”

“Astounded…”

“And if you’re aroused, that’s okay, too!”

“For our first trick, I’m going to use our magic wand,” Draco announced. She picked a plastic wand off a table to the side of the stage.

“No!” Paris exclaimed, just as Goldie yelled, “Hold up!”

“What?” Draco asked innocently.

“You’re not allowed to use the wand to do magic,” Paris explained, and took the wand away.

“You got in trouble after what happened last time,” Goldie added.

Draco pouted. “But I bet the audience would like to see me perform some magic, wouldn’t you?” She addressed the audience, which cheered enthusiastically.

“I know! I’ll do... wandless magic!" she exclaimed, and pulled out her deck of cards. “Now, I’ll make these cards fly!” She held the deck between two fingers and squeezed until all but one card flew out and landed on the stage. The audience laughed.

“Draco, that’s not magic,” Goldie chided. “Anyone can do that!”

“But can they do this?!” Draco floated the remaining card between her hands and made it appear to dance in midair. “It’s magic!" she squealed, and jumped up and down like a five-year-old. The audience cheered.

“Now, let’s show them some real magic!” Paris said, and performed her shtick with pulling flowers out of the end of the wand. 

Goldie and Draco waved their hands on either side of Paris, hyping the moment. “Magic!” they cried. The audience applauded.

“But those aren’t the only tricks we can do,” Goldie said.

“Shall we show them Goldie’s trick next?” Draco asked, then turned to the audience. “Who wants to see Goldie hide the salami?” The audience cheered.

Goldie made a big show of interacting with the audience before stuffing a long, thin balloon down her throat. Paris and Draco built up the moment by interacting with the audience, which cheered even more enthusiastically.

Draco jumped up and down. “It’s magic! It’s magic!”

“And now, we just have one trick left,” Paris said, holding the wand.

“Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” Draco jumped up and down and waved her arm in the air harder than Hermione Granger. “Let me use the wand!”

Goldie gave her an admonishing look. “Draco, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“But I can do it! I’m magical!” Draco waved her arms as a way to demonstrate that concept and struck a dramatic pose.

“Girl, you know what happened the last time we let you use the wand,” Paris said.

“But the audience doesn’t know!”

“Maybe we should tell them,” Paris said, then turned to the audience. “Do y’all want to know what happened?”

“What happened?” RuPaul called out from the judges’ panel.

“She hexed off Paris’ left buttcheek,” Goldie said. Paris rubbed her derriere and made a sad face. The audience laughed.

“But she got better!” Draco turned to the audience. “And isn’t it a nice arse, ladies and gentlemen? Paris, show them your arse!” Paris turned around and twerked while the audience erupted in cheers and applause.

“All right, let’s ask the audience,” Goldie continued. “What do you think? Should we let Draco do some magic?”

The audience cheered again, and Draco jumped up and down in delight. “Yay!!!”

“All right,” Paris sighed dramatically, and cautiously handed Draco the wand.

Draco squealed in delight and waved the wand around in the air. “Ooh! I get to do some magic!!!”

Paris and Goldie ducked as Draco swung the wand in their direction. 

“Whoa!”

“Be careful!” Paris held a hand to her buttcheek. The audience laughed.

“For this last trick, I’m going to make light come out of the magic wand,” Draco explained, then shimmied, waving her hands dramatically.

“Lumos!”

The white plastic tip of the wand lit up. Draco jumped up and down excitedly. “I did magic! I did magic!” She spun in a circle as the audience applauded.

—At the Viewing Party—

A collective gasp rose from the audience. 

“Draco, you didn’t!” Granger cried, shocked.

“You’re right. I didn’t,” Draco replied nonchalantly.

—

In reality, there was a tiny battery inside the wand and Draco had simply touched a tiny button on the tip.

“Now, I can make that light...disappear!” She waved her hands dramatically again, then slid the hand not holding the wand from the base to the tip, seeming to grasp the lit tip.

“Nox!”

She pulled her hand off the tip and waved it at the audience, revealing that the light had gone out. Draco squealed. 

“Ooooh, I did MAGIC!!!” She clapped her hands and jumped up and down. The audience laughed and applauded.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that’s our show!” Goldie exclaimed with jazz hands.

“And once again, we are the sisters of Alpha Beta Gamma Omega Zeta Jones!” Paris added. The audience cheered yet again. The trio struck dramatic poses before sashaying off the stage. 

—At the Viewing Party—

Reactions to Draco’s magic performance were mixed. Several people in the audience cheered; a few even catcalled.

Several more people appeared to be in shock. Draco hoped they would appreciate that she wasn’t doing real magic. Even when she used actual spells, she was manipulating a silly plastic stick. The whole thing was just theatre.

—

After the magic show, the audience left and the queens prepared for their runway presentations. The theme was “Witch, Please!” 

The other queens each served looks that fell somewhere on a spectrum of sexy-scary-insane-ugly. On behalf of real witches everywhere, Draco felt slightly embarrassed by the parade of imitators. Though he had to grant that of the queens, only she and Kali had any idea what a “real” witch should look like.

Kai had, to her credit, not tried to create a witch look with warts, green skin, dripping blood, cobwebs, or other nonsense that the other queens had incorporated. She had instead opted for a bohemian-chic look with billowing, gauzy fabrics. 

It was respectful enough that Draco could forgive her appropriation of a tiara made from chunky amethyst crystals, which was the sign of a graduate of the Salem Witch Institute. Kali had probably borrowed it from her aunt for the occasion.

Draco entered the runway in a floor-length, elaborately beaded silk aubergine gown with long bell sleeves and a low, plunging neckline. She had chosen not to pad this time, going back to her naturally slender silhouette, although her corset made her waist look impossibly small. Her wig was thigh-length, straight platinum blonde hair pulled over one shoulder. She had her arms behind her back, a rope wrapping around her torso and legs tying her to a stake. A small pile of twigs surrounded her feet.

“Draco has a lot at stake tonight,” Michelle Visage commented dryly.

—Confessional—

“Tonight on the runway, I am serving a high-society witch,” Draco explained. “She was caught on her way to the annual Halloween gala at the Ministry of Magic, but there will be no burning at the stake this time! I feel strong, sexy, and powerful in this look. This is pure Draco.”

—

Draco made tiny steps, almost hopping forward. She stopped halfway up the runway. With a dramatic movement, she strained her arms until the ropes broke. (They had been designed to be broken easily, of course.) She reached behind her and pulled at the stake, which turned out to be none other than her old Nimbus 2001 broomstick. She stepped away from the pile of twigs, held her broomstick confidently up in the air, and laughed wickedly. 

“Ooh!” special guest judge Allison Hannigan breathed.

“Fly, my queen, fly!” RuPaul exclaimed.

Draco then marched the rest of the way forward and simultaneously pulled her wand—her real wand—out from her sleeve. She deftly twirled it between her fingers before pointing it at the judges.

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience broke out in uncomfortable murmurs.

“Draco, I can’t believe you did that!” Pansy Parkinson gasped.

Draco shrugged. “They thought it was fake, just like the one in the challenge.”

—

Out of the corner of her eye, Draco could see Herb Kong standing on the side of the set and raising a warning eyebrow, but she didn’t care. The challenge was to give the judges a witch, and Draco was going to deliver the look. She wasn’t stupid enough to actually fly on her broom or use her wand as anything other than a prop.

Afterward, the queens reentered the stage for judging. 

“You were jumping up and down and shouting like a little kid, and I was here for it,” special guest judge Becky G told Draco. “It was pure joy.”

“Your runway look tonight is almost too glamorous to be a witch,” Michelle declared.

“Michelle, I disagree!” Ross argued. “Draco, you’re looking the most confident I’ve ever seen you on the runway.”

Draco smiled. “That’s because I have magic in my veins. It’s time for me to come out and admit that I really am a witch.”

—At the Viewing Party—

The audience gasped. Again. Draco was really succeeding in bringing drama to the evening’s show.

“I can’t believe you just broke the Statute of Secrecy like that!” Blaise uttered.

“It’s not like they believed me,” Draco said, defending herself. “See?” She gestured towards the screen as the rest of the judging scene unfolded.

—

The judges chuckled. “I’m sure you are,” RuPaul replied. 

Draco blinked. None of them actually took her seriously on that statement. They thought it was just talk.

“But I’m loving this new side of you,” Ross continued. “I believe that you really could kill us all if you wanted to.”

Draco laughed. “I’m feeling generous this evening,” she drawled.

—

After the judges concluded their interviews, the queens went backstage for Untucked. They each grabbed a signature cocktail from the makeshift bar and sat down. Lady Cakes sighed, kicking her heels off and leaning back into the sofa.

“Girl, can I just say how glad I am that we’re done with that challenge!” Kali declared.

“Oh, honey, you’re not joking!” Venus replied.

“I see you finally found a use for your lucky stick and broom,” Kali winked at Draco. Draco peered around the corner and saw the aurors watching them.

“Ta,” she said, setting her drink down. “Excuse me, I think I need to get my mic adjusted.” She went over to where Herb Kong, Paprikah, and Basil were standing.

Basil made a very subtle movement with his wand barely poking out of his sleeve, and Draco’s mic shorted out, giving them an excuse to talk without being recorded.

“Very well then,” Draco said. “You might as well spit it out. Am I to be arrested?”

“Do you want to be?” Paprikah glared at him as she unzipped Draco’s dress and began to remove the mic that had been taped to her back.

Herb Kong sighed. “You certainly weren’t subtle,” he said. “We’ve discussed it, and under the circumstances, what you’ve said and done today still passes for believable as far as no-mags are concerned.”

Basil pulled out a new mic and helped Paprikah tape it onto Draco. “It helps that you technically didn’t do any actual magic,” he added. “At least we don’t have to obliviate anyone and destroy the tapes.”

“But pulling out your wand and broom is really pushing it,” Herb continued. “You may not have revealed anything meaningful to no-mags, but I can’t imagine everyone in the wizarding world is going to appreciate that distinction. If I were you, I’d get ready to do some damage control back home once this episode airs.”

Draco chuckled. “Aside from my boyfriend and a very small number of friends, no one knows I’m even doing drag, let alone consorting with muggles...in America, even. I can’t imagine how any of the old blood-supremacists back in England could possibly find out.”

Paprikah raised an eyebrow. “You might be surprised,” she said, and turned the new mic on before zipping Draco back into her dress.

Draco waved her off. Inwardly, she was relieved that these three aurors had let her off the hook so easily. And compared to Heather Villareal’s manners, they were almost downright pleasant.

She walked back to the Untucked lounge, where she found Lorena and Paris engaged in a screaming match. Venus was sitting in between them. She had pulled the back of her sofa cushion over her head and was attempting to hide underneath it, shrinking down until her backside was almost off the sofa entirely. Kali was standing in front of a vanity with one ear bud in her ear, practicing the lip sync number.

“What did I miss?” Draco asked Goldie.

“Girl, I don’t even know what's going on anymore,” Goldie laughed. “One minute they were talking about laying their edges, and now…?”

“You better watch yourself before you try and come for me!” Lorena yelled.

“I’m just trying to help you, you psycho!” Paris yelled back.

“Michelle’s tits,” Draco sighed, and downed her cocktail in one go.

—

“Now, just between us squirrelfriends,” RuPaul said to the judges, “I want to know what you have to say about my girls.”

“I think this was a breakthrough night for Draco,” Ross said. “I really feel like she stepped up to the plate this week, and she knocked it out of the park.”

“I agree,” Michelle said.

“What?” Ross asked, shocked. “You and I agree about something?!”

RuPaul laughed.

“I do! She really came through tonight, and I finally feel like I know who she is now,” Michelle explained.

“She was a real standout for me tonight,” Allison Hannigan added.

—

“Welcome back, ladies,” RuPaul addressed the queens when they returned to the stage. “I have made some decisions. Lady Cakes McMansion,” she began, “Poof! You’re safe.”

Lady Cakes nodded in thanks and walked to the back of the stage.

“Goldie Hanako,” RuPaul continued, “You’re safe.” Goldie grinned and headed to the back.

“Draco,” RuPaul continued. Draco straightened her shoulders. “Hocus Pocus, you’re the witch with the mostest. Condragulations, you are the winner of this week’s challenge.”

Draco’s mouth dropped. She quickly corrected herself and gave a more dignified nod, albeit with delight shining in her eyes.

—At the Viewing Party—

Cheers erupted from  the audience.

“Draco, you did it!” Harry grinned, and kissed Draco on the cheek. Draco preened.

—

“You have won a one-year’s supply of Boobly water and a photo shoot in an upcoming issue of Fancy Boy Quarterly,” RuPaul added. “You may join the other girls.”

“Thank you,” Draco replied sincerely, and walked to the back of the stage.

—Confessional—

“I won my second challenge!” Draco gushed. “This is madness!”

—

“Lorena Gucci,” RuPaul went on. “Your witch look had us gagging. But in the challenge, you...choked.” Lorena nodded stiffly.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.”

Lorena pursed her lips in disdain.

“Paris Davenport, you are safe.” Paris thanked RuPaul and went to the back of the stage.

“Kali Sister, tonight on the runway, you command attention. But in the magic act, you...disappeared. I’m sorry, my dear, but you are up for elimination.”

Kali looked up to the ceiling in resignation, a sour expression on her face.

“Venus Flygirl, you’re safe.” 

Venus cried in relief and headed to the back of the stage.

“Two queens stand before me,” RuPaul said to Lorena and Kali. “Ladies, this is your last chance to impress me and save yourself from elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync for your life! Now, good luck, and don’t fuck it up!”

The music started up; Kali and Lorena lip synced to a song about magic.

As Draco watched the lip sync, she secretly rooted for Kali. Over the past few weeks, Draco had developed something of a kinship with her. It also could be noted that Draco had tired of Lorena’s belligerent attitude towards herself and the other queens.

—Confessional—

“Lorena is really turning it out in this lip sync,” Venus said, as the camera showed the two queens waving their arms and emoting to the lyrics with everything they had. “But Kali’s serving some serious choreography. I think this is gonna be really close to call.”

—

The song ended, and Lorena and Kali posed on the stage, panting for breath while the judges and queens applauded.

“Ladies,” RuPaul began, “I’ve made my decision.” The two queens waited expectantly.

“Kali Sister, that was magic. Chanté, you stay. You may join the other girls.” 

Kali shed a few tears and nodded in gratitude before heading back. Lorena pursed her lips and blinked furiously. Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

“Lorena Gucci, I’m sorry, my dear, but this is not your time. Now, sashay away.”

And with a quick departing message, Lorena walked back up the runway and out of the competition.

“Condragulations, my queens! Now remember—if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love someone else? Can I get an Amen up in here?!”

“Amen!”

“All right, now let the music play!”

—At the Viewing Party—

As the episode ended, Draco stepped onto the stage to work the crowd and perform a final number. 

Suddenly, there was an explosion in the Bent Unicorn. People screamed as debris flew from the direction of the stage.

—

Sneak Peek for Episode 10:

Lady Cakes held up her Draco puppet. Draco cringed to see that Lady Cakes had dressed it in a white rectangular scrap of fabric and a wonky eyelash. “Lady Cakes, do be sure to fasten your chair strap when we ride in the artmobile! Hash fag, safety first, ta!”

—Confessional—

“I don’t really sound like that...do I?” Draco asked the producer behind the camera. “Why aren’t you answering?”

—

Overnight, Draco transfigured his Death Eater mask, slightly altering the shape to a more feminine face. The circles around the eyes were drawn up from a simple skeletal shape to a design more befitting a drag queen.