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Lucius Malfoy walked out of Diagon Alley and into the Leaky Cauldron. He finished his business at Burgon and Boracks, where he bought some new equipment for his Dungeon and was itching to try it out. His search for pray had led him to a Muggle high-school. These young children were running around and shouting like filthy little animals, he shuddered at the thought.

A little red headed girl bumped into him and instead of cowering in fear and apologizing, she gave him a suspicious look and asked what HE was doing there. "The nerve of that girl!" he squinted his eyes and gave her a disapproving look. "This is none of your business little girl, run along now".
He was not expecting the girl to laugh at him and he resisted the urge to smack her, right then and there.
"I'm 18, hardly a little girl any more and I'm making it my business as it is my school!" she proclaimed.
His hands tightened round his cane yet he maintained his calm, cold voice "You need to learn some respect you wretched girl" and as he said that, she collapsed onto the ground, sleeping.

He took off with her immediately to his mansion and called his house elf to drag her into the dungeon. This girl will learn some manners, even if it kills her, he smirked at the thought. He ordered the elf to lock the girl in the cage there and went into the dining hall. His wife and son had been waiting for him at the table. "What took you so long dear", asked Narcisa. "Oh, I found a new toy. If it's any good, I'll might let Draco play with it as well". Draco blushed at the thought and pretended to focus on his meal.

After dinner, he relaxed over a glass of wine in his lounge, letting the black leather wrap his body pondering the new toy he took. The fireplace showed him what was going on in the dungeon below him. The girl just woke up to find herself locked in a cage but she was not screaming in terror like the other girls he imprisoned usually did. She was feeling the bars instead, probably trying to find the lock or the handle. Silly girl, she does not know that the cage is magically locked, and that there is no way out for a mudblood. As she explored her surroundings, he examined her body. She looked young even though she claimed to be 18 and her cat-like movements emphasized her athletic body. Long, red curls poured over her white buttoned shirt and almost down to her plaid skirt. She frowned upon her white knee-high socks, which were not so white anymore and tried to get the dirt off them. It was a nice fresh catch, he thought. Maybe now it was time to examine his new equipment.