Disclaimer: Don't own and never will.
AN: Written for the Harry Potter Pick Up Lines Challenge by Screaming Faeries.
Drinking alone was not really a good idea, Molly Weasley II thought to herself as she began working her way through her fourth Firewhisky in two hours.
It was an especially bad idea to drink alone on Valentines Day in a dingy pub somewhere off Diagon Alley. Even in this backwater place, there were couples cuddling and canoodling, like the young amorous couple who were not as discrete as they liked to think. It was almost painful to watch, especially given the way HER Valentines Day had gone.
"You want to talk miss?" the sympathetic old bartender asked and Molly snorted. She wasn't quite drunk enough to start blubbering to a complete stranger, even ones with thinning grey hair and more wrinkles than what should be humanly possible.
"I'm not that drunk yet, thanks," she replied, before giving a bitter chuckle. "Besides, it's embarrassing. You try discovering that you're the hubby stealer with a man you didn't know was married."
Apparently she was that drunk. Or simply wanted to get it off her chest. One of the two.
The bartender gave her a sympathetic look and sighed.
"Sorry to hear that miss. You're probably better off without him," he said and Molly gave another bitter chuckle.
"If you're about to tell me that there's plenty more fish in the sea, don't. I always seem to get the crappy ones," she said with more than a little hint of bitterness. "Honestly, the guy's WIFE comes up to me and gives ME a slap because he went and spun her some sob story about me seducing HIM! As if I'd waste my time chasing a married man! I have my pride."
"Not all married men are like that," the bartender replied, before pouring out another Firewhisky and pushing it in her direction. "Have another on the house."
Molly smiled and thanked the man, downing her drink in a single swallow. The liquid burned at her throat and she revelled in it.
"Are you speaking Parseltongue? Because you're talking to my snake."
Molly turned to look at the owner of the voice. Slick, slightly greasy hair, grey eyes and a narrow face. He might have been good looking in a different light. She might even have been impressed by his line had she been more drunk. She looked down at him with a smirk.
"I can hear it," she said and the greasy guy smirked. "It's a wonder how something so small can make so much noise."
The smirk vanished to be replaced with a scowl and Molly laughed, this time a more genuine laugh. Staggering slightly to her feet, she walked to the fireplace and flooed home.