For the 2011 M&MWP Comp.
"Malfoy? Scorpius Malfoy?"
The blond looked up warily and sighed. "The one and only."
Percy Weasley gazed at the younger man, an amused smile on his face as he neatly hooked his jacket on the back of his chair and then sat directly opposite him. He contemplated Scorpius' form for a moment—taking in his slouched shoulders and lean fingers that were lazily circling the rim of his half-empty glass.
"You're a bit young to be here," he said, though not unkindly.
At this, Scorpius chuckled. "And you're a bit old to be here, don't you think?"
"You're never too old to drown your sorrows," Percy replied. He placed his cheek in the palm of his hand, looking curiously at the man. "I assume you're here to do the same. Did someone Scourgify your stash of Playwizard magazines?"
"Close. Very, very close. Care to guess again?"
The expression on his face was unreadable and Percy almost got up and left. He thought better of it though—it wasn't as if he had anywhere he needed to be. Keeping his eyes locked on Scorpius', Percy fiddled with his fingers mindlessly as he thought of a response.
"My father thought it be best to Incendio my stash of Playwitch magazines," Scorpius said, relenting as the quiet overwhelmed him. Not allowing his companion to digest the information and react, he plowed on. "Your turn. Why are you here, Weasley?"
Percy was hesitant to reply, but he kept his voice steady as he replied, "I was laid off this afternoon. Shacklebolt wasn't pleased to see me spending my lunch break with...an old friend."
"Fired for eating lunch." The disgust in his voice was apparent. "What were you eating? Deep-fried Muggle?"
"I wasn't exactly eating, per se. Let's just say that I may have re-enacted one of those pictures in your magazines with said friend."
Scorpius looked up, frowning. "I don't think many of the pictures in my magazines could be re-enacted with any lady of yours. Although I'm sure she's very fit and bendy, I'm afraid she just wouldn't have the right...uh, bits."
"And why do you assume that this friend of mine is a young lady?" The man shrugged as Scorpius' jaw hit the table. "It was fun. Comfort at its best, I'd say. At any rate, I can assure you that it was much better than whatever came out of staring at those trashy magazines."
"Comfort at its best, huh?" Across the table, the Malfoy smirked inwardly. "And yet here you are drinking with me in order to try to—how did you word it?—drown your sorrows. Wouldn't you rather have the very best form of comfort? Getting drunk must be an awful substitute."
Percy's eyebrows shot up and he blinked several times in surprise. "Are you offering me a more...efficient form of comfort, then?"
"You're not the only one that wants a bit of comfort, Percy Weasley. And besides, you were the one that said I was too young to be drinking here...so perhaps another form of comfort is necessary."
"And you were right in saying that I really am far too old to be here..."
"Right!" Scorpius slammed down his glass with a determined glint in his eye. "Let's relocate, shall we? I believe I need to buy a new set of magazines."
Percy chuckled as he was led out of the pub. Leaning forward and placing his lips near the man's ear, he murmured, "Come now, didn't I tell you that the real thing is much, much more satisfying?"
