He landed hard, boots skidding against soft, grassy earth, the jolt rattling up through his knees.
The wind tugged at his robes like an impatient child, flapping the fabric around his legs. All around him stretched an open field—quiet, too quiet—with not a single tree or soul in sight. No immediate danger… but his wand was already in hand.
Where am I?
That would've been his first thought—if he hadn't known full well this was a risk.
The card hadn't exactly offered coordinates. Just a promise. A window of potential.
A gamble.
He could've ended up dropped into a pack of wights, all hungry moans and frozen fingers. Or worse—smack in the path of one of Daenerys's oversized flying lizards. And those didn't exactly come with friendly intentions.
Still, he'd used it.
He'd wanted to use it.
With Sirius now hunting Peter, who could guarantee he wouldn't come after him next—especially with the shadow of Lucius Malfoy's sins still clinging to his name?
Draco didn't fancy finding out.
Besides, he needed to start his journey eventually. The longer he stayed cooped up in that castle, the more he felt like a rat in a very well-decorated cage.
And with the rare bit of freedom that came from being away from Hogwarts for once, today had felt like the best possible time to make the leap.
The enchantment had been clear: time moved differently here. One week in this realm equated to barely an hour back home.
Plenty of time. Probably.
"Right then," he muttered, reaching into his robes and tugging out the jack's compass. "Show me the magic."
It spun for a moment before ticking firmly toward the east.
Let's find out where I've gone and plopped myself down now.
Clop. Clop.
Hooves.
Fast. Getting louder.
He barely had time to sigh before flicking his wand and murmuring a Disillusionment Charm under his breath. The world shimmered slightly, and he vanished from sight just as a rider burst over the rise.
"Can't even get a minute's peace," Draco whispered, flattening himself low, already wishing he'd thought to bring his bloody broom.
Seconds later, a figure thundered past—bare-chested, with braided hair snapping in the wind, and a pony's skull slung across his chest like some grim accessory.
Draco's eyes narrowed.
"Dothraki," he murmured, half to himself, recognising the features .
That settled it—or at least gave him a strong guess. Either he was in Essos, where these horse-lords were born and bred… or Westeros, if they'd already crossed the Narrow Sea behind their silver-haired queen.
As the rider disappeared into the horizon, Draco let out a quiet breath and stood up, brushing grass from his robes. The charm fizzled away with a wave of his wand, revealing him once more.
"Well," he said to no one in particular, "wasn't that a dramatic entrance."
He took a moment to glance down at the compass again—still pointing east—and with a resigned sigh, began walking.
An Hour Later
His legs ached. His mood had steadily dropped from mildly curious to thoroughly unimpressed.
The open plains had shifted to dry dirt paths, scattered with rocks and the occasional broken cartwheel. A hot breeze kicked up dust that clung to his boots and robes alike. The sun hadn't let up, and neither had the silence—until finally, mercifully, the gates of a city came into view.
Towering, sun-bleached walls stretched high above him, casting long shadows across the road. Massive gates loomed ahead, flanked by silent sentinels. Each stood statue-still, spears upright, faces unreadable behind helmets of polished steel.
Unsullied.
Draco squinted, lips tugging into a slight frown as he slowed his steps.
His eyes shifted to the entrance, where a small queue had formed. Locals, merchants, and travellers each stepped forward to toss a few coins into a wooden box, all under the watchful eye of another Unsullied soldier.
"Of course," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. "Gate tax."
He glanced around, ensuring no one was watching too closely, then let out a long sigh.
"Well, if they're going to charge, they ought to at least be able to see the customer."
With a swift flick of his wand and a muttered, "Obscuro Invisibilis," he shimmered from sight once again.
Quiet as a ghost, he strolled past the guards, resisting the urge to whistle.
"Tax that, you bald blokes," he murmured under his breath, grinning faintly to himself as the city swallowed him whole.
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Magical items which can be used for trade .
Plot idea's
Harem from GOT