Dear Readers,

"Narcissa's Daughter" was so wildly successful (I got over 3200 hits in two weeks! Thank you!) that I decided it needed a sequel. Writing from Draco's point of view was something challenging and I enjoyed it so much that I wanted to do it again!

Now, the ideas in my head for this fic aren't nearly as clear-cut as they were for Narcissa's Daughter, so the updates won't be as frequent. I don't promise this one will be as poignant as Narcissa's Daughter either, but I will still try and give you something fun to read. =]

Sincerely,

Rae Carson

It was uncommonly late in the evening at The Leaky Cauldron. But that was when Draco Malfoy preferred to do business with Borgin and Burke. He was off to sell yet another dangerous family heirloom to their shop. Draco was cradling it against himself in its protective shroud. The heirloom was none other than the shriveled Hand of Glory and it wasn't the first time his family had sold it. Draco hadn't used it since that one time he was skulking about at Hogwarts with fellow Death Eaters in the Room of Requirement at the end of sixth year. And what an end to the year that was, thought Draco, since Dumbledore wound up dead.

Suddenly, a drunken patron backed right into him, almost knocking the Hand from Draco's grasp.

"Watch where you're going, you stupid- " Draco began. He was shocked when he saw who it was that backed into him.

"Potter?"

Harry's glasses went askew as he whirled around to look at who had called his name. But the sudden motion appeared to be too much for him, as he swayed on his feet and the mug of ale in his hand began to spill on the floor.

"Whaddya want?" slurred Harry, "Come to bother me when I'm down, eh?" He was obviously very perturbed at being interrupted. It almost looked like he was spoiling for a fight.

Draco just stared at his former rival for a moment; never before had he assumed that Harry Potter was capable of being so piss drunk that he'd start yelling. Then again, alcohol could do strange things to people, as Draco knew from first-hand experience because all of those dares he'd taken in the Slytherin common room as a school boy.

Harry took a very mis-aimed swing at Draco. Draco pulled back to avoid getting hit and quickly laid the Hand of Glory on the main bar.

"How many of those things has he had?" Draco asked the pub tender, pointing to Harry's mug. The blonde dodged another blow.

"Just four," said Tom.

"Four? Is that all?" Draco couldn't hardly believe it. He'd always suspected that Potter couldn't hold his liquor, but this proved it. He laughed aloud. This time, Harry was successful in hitting Draco in the jaw.

Abruptly, Draco had a flashback to the time Hermione had hit him in the face at Hogwarts all those years ago. Then he got angry. Draco was no longer thirteen and he was no longer Harry Potter's rival. Or was he?

Harry lunged forward and Draco grabbed his fists. Somewhere along the way, Harry had lost his mug of ale. Good job, Draco thought, I really dislike smelling of booze.

Draco called for help from other patrons, but by this hour, nobody was interested in assisting him. There wasn't much Tom could do about a swinging, angry Harry Potter either, so Draco just blocked and dodged Harry's mis-aimed blows until Harry had tired himself out. It didn't take long. Harry slumped over, his back against the bar. In spite of himself, Draco couldn't help but ask a question.

"Potter, why are you drunk?"

At this, Harry's face crumpled and he turned around, folded his arms, and sobbed into them.

Dear lord, all I asked was a simple question...

Tom answered for Harry, "His girlfriend was cheating on him. They've been together for years." Harry cried even harder.

Potty and his Weasel broke up? Draco didn't know whether to laugh aloud or not. The idea that Ginny was cheating on him was too funny, but it was obvious that Potter was in no condition to hear laughter right now. Draco also realised Harry was in no condition to be around anyone, much less family or friends.

"Does he have anywhere to go?" Draco found himself asking Tom.

"He won't leave. I'm going to have to call the authorities if he doesn't," Tom said apologetically.

He probably just doesn't want anybody to see him, poor sot. Draco slapped a hand to his forehead. Why do I even care? He shook his head, knowing he was going to regret what he was about to do.

"I'll take him, Tom."

Tom's eyes opened so wide that Draco thought they might pop out of their sockets. Apparently, the old rivalry between the Potters and the Malfoys was well-known amongst wizards. And won't it cause quite a stir when Potter goes home with me? Draco thought with dark humour.

Draco scooped up the Hand of Glory and slung it over one shoulder, and then he supported Potter against the other shoulder.

Harry blubbered all the way to Malfoy Manor, switching between gratitude, apology, and sorrow.

"Why can't you just shut up or pass out?" Draco questioned irately. He hated Potter's carrying on. Immediately, Harry quieted. "Please do keep it down, Potter. My mother still lives here, you know."

Draco shoved off responsibility of Harry onto the butler, whom he escorted to one of the plethora of guest rooms at Malfoy Manor.

Before he could change his mind, Draco went to the family's wine cabinet and poured himself a high-proof vintage. He definitely needed a good stiff belt if he were to sleep that night.