At A Muggle Bar

Harry sighed in relief as the dimness of the bar made him squint, the familiar scent of sweat and booze permeating in the room. He eyed his usual seat and slumped into it, not caring much about the blond kid sitting in the seat beside him. He’d never exactly been a goody-two-shoes – no, that’d been a job for Hermione — and he wasn’t going to begrudge the kid a drink. Anyway, this wasn’t his world so, to be honest, he didn’t give a flying fuck.

Of course, Harry didn’t give a flying fuck about much these days.

He rolled his eyes at his thoughts and nodded to the bartender for the usual. He hadn’t come to this disgusting pigsty of a bar to wallow in the depression that was his past. In fact, he’d come here to forget about all of it — the whispers and the rumours, the looks on people’s faces when he walked by — as he had every week for the past three years.

He shook his head infinitesimally, focusing on the glass in front of him. He took a searing mouthful and closed his eyes as it went down, waiting for the buzz to appear. When it had, Harry smiled to himself, pleased. Sad as it was to admit it, this had been the thing he had been waiting for the whole week.

In a slightly cheerier mood, Harry finally looked to his side to study the blond kid, everything being so much more interesting now than it had been two minutes ago. However, what he saw instantly killed whatever buzz he’d managed to conjure as his eyes widened incredulously.

“Malfoy?” Harry gasped.

The kid — or rather, the man — stirred and turned to face Harry. He’d been right. The thin, pale face was, without a doubt, none other than Draco Malfoy. Although he’d never outgrown his lanky figure, Malfoy’s face had become thinner, paler, and his eyes seemed darker — although it was hard to tell from his glassy stare.

It seemed Malfoy recognized Harry as well.

“Oh, great,” he intoned, rolling his eyes and sighing heavily. “Wonderful. If it isn’t Harry-fucking-Potter, oh this is a pleasure.”

Ignoring the jab, Harry just stared and asked the first thing that came to mind.

“What are you doing here?”

Malfoy scoffed. “I suppose for the same reason you are. Drowning your sorrows and whatnot. Drinking away the pain and the past, am I right?” Malfoy drained what was left in his glass as Harry sat, speechless. “Gods, this is foul,” he spat, eyeing the glass beadily. “And Muggles spend their lives drinking this stuff? Filthy as always, I suppose.”

“Don’t say shite like that,” Harry snapped.

“Eloquent as ever, I see. Perhaps even a tad more than usual, I see you’re using grown-up words now—”

“And I’m not drowning my sorrows or whatever,” finished Harry heatedly.

Malfoy just looked at him condescendingly, smug as ever. “Right. So if not to wallow in the patheticness that is his life, what is the great Harry Potter doing in a place like this?” he asked sarcastically.

“I could ask you the same thing,” retorted Harry, bristling.

Malfoy’s smile grew more pronounced. “Ah, so you admit I’m great, do you, Potter?” He chuckled at the exasperated look on Harry’s face. “And at any rate, it was you — not I — that denied a pathetic existence. I’m not a fool, Potter; I know when my life sucks when it does.”

“You have no idea —” began Harry, muttering darkly into his glass.

“Nor do I have any wish to. As we’ve established, my life is quite miserable without you dumping your sorrows onto me,” interjected Malfoy, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“What are you doing in a Muggle bar anyway?” Harry demanded, frustrated.

“I expect it’s similar to your situation, Potter. There are some that wish to avoid me and others that I’d rather avoid. It’s a win-win kind of deal.” Malfoy smirked, then looked around the bar in boredom. “However, I do believe that this will be the last time I do so. It’s dirty, disgusting, and utterly boring. I suppose I can see its appeal for people like you,” he quipped, eyeing Harry disdainfully. He turned and lounged in his seat, watching the nameless Muggles. “There aren’t even any naked Leprechauns. There were naked Leprechauns at the wizarding bar I visited a few weeks ago,” he said plaintively to Harry, as though mourning his loss.

“Wonderful,” sighed Harry, rolling his eyes.

“It was, it was...” Draco trailed off quietly, humming under his breath. It seemed like he had forgotten about Harry’s existence for a moment before his head snapped to the side, his eyes gleaming with sudden mischief at Harry. “Well, if things aren’t going to get more lively around here by themselves, I suppose it’ll be up to me to make things… interesting.” Malfoy reached into his slacks (slacks? since when did Malfoy wear slacks?) and slowly pulled a wand out of before beginning to open his mouth.

“What are you doing?” hissed Harry, grabbing onto Malfoy’s hand and cutting off the incantation. For a split second he was sidetracked by the feeling of actually touching Malfoy in a way that wasn’t aggressive. It felt sort of nice… Harry shook his head. “You can’t do magic!”

“Well, I most certainly can,” replied Malfoy mildly. “As you might recall, I used to best you in every useful subject in school. But I know what you mean, Potter," he continued at the sour look on Harry's face, "And what the Ministry doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Where did you even get a wand, anyway?” Harry asked, lowering Malfoy’s outstretched hand… and not letting go.

“Seeing as you’ve been kind enough to keep my first wand for yourself, I thought I’d take it upon myself to acquire a new one. I do hope you approve, Potter,” he said sarcastically, thumbing his wand. “Maybe this time you won’t feel the need to steal it. I’m guessing you kept the other one as a souvenir, did you?”

Harry thought about the spare wand he kept hidden under his mattress and frowned. “Well, it’s not really your wand anymore. It’s changed its allegiance.”

“That’d be the second time you’ve done that, then.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, back to the point,” Malfoy drawled. “Stop being such a stick-in-the-ass, and watch.” And with a sharp flick, the trousers of the overweight man sitting by himself in the corner promptly disappeared with an anticlimatic poof.

Snorting into their drinks, the two had to fight off their laughter as the man slowly came out of his stupor to realize why he felt a sudden breeze... The man let out a grunt of surprise; his face coloured a violent purple fast enough to rival Vernon as he began to spew out profanities about his missing pants.

To Harry and Draco's great amusement, the man decided to blame the sudden non-existance of boxer-brief-covering trousers on the poor unsuspecting drunkard seated across from him, who had begun to guffaw loudly at the sight of dirty, stained Simpsons boxer briefs. This resulted in a screaming row that quickly escalated into a full-on bar fight in which every other patron at the bar decided to join in on. Harry laughed hard at the sight of a half-naked man howling around and throwing punches to anyone who came in his way, and Draco only sat on his stool with a look of satisfaction and glee on his face.

However, once stools and glasses began being chucked, Harry and Malfoy ducked out of the bar, tears streaming down their faces as they doubled over laughing.

“Do you do this often?” Harry choked out over the screams and crashes coming from inside. “Because, Malfoy, I must concur with you on this one—that was hilarious.”

Malfoy nodded dismissively as he regained composure — though his cheeks were still a bit red — and looked at Harry keenly before muttering, “You can call me Draco, you know.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the sudden offer, a flash of suspicion crossing his mind before disappearing, and a grin slowly crossed his face. “And I do prefer being called Harry. The name Potter has some unpreferable connotations attached to it.”

“Right. Well, Harry, it has certainly been a pleasure, but I really must be going. The great never rest, you know,” Draco informed Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Draco. But maybe we could do this again sometime?” he pressed. “It’s more fun than downing a few pints of cheap booze by yourself.”

Draco smirked and inclined his head. “Perhaps we will. Oh, this is exciting, fun with the great Harry Potter. I can’t wait to tell the girls,” he deadpanned, making Harry chuckle and roll his eyes. With a swish of his cloak, Draco Disapparated.

Harry stared at the spot where Draco had disappeared for a moment, before shaking himself and Disapparating as well.