A/N: As you can see, I've decided to write a one-shot, because a one-shot does not need publishing many chapters. Therefore, it won't take me two years, or a decade, or a lifetime even, to complete it. And then you guys won't have to wait years, or decades, or a lifetime for a new update. I have not abandoned my other fanfics, and I am determined to finish them off, but here's a one-shot before that happens.

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed since my last update. I may be slightly older, but I have not suddenly morphed into J.K. Rowling. None of the Harry Potter world belongs to me. I only take credit for the plot.

I hope you all enjoy!

~CharmHex01


Draco Malfoy sat in a lonely corner of The Leaky Cauldron, brooding silently. In a drunken haze, he contemplated the glass of Firewhiskey set before him by the bartender. Looking up, he realised that she looked vaguely familiar. Not the conventional kind of beauty, but pretty nonetheless. With soft, rounded features, Draco had no idea why she would strike him as familiar. She was probably an old classmate from Hogwarts. He couldn't remember her name, and nor did he particularly care.

He turned his focus back to the Firewhiskey before him, the fiery red tempting him, luring him in. A thought of the Weasley clan flashed across his mind. Draco snorted. The tomato red of the Weasleys could hardly be compared to the seductive crimson of his most beloved drink. It was obvious that his mind had been muddled by the alcohol. Sighing, he downed his latest glass of many in one practised gulp. The magical drink left a flaming trace which no Muggle drink could ever hope to achieve. He waved at the bartender for another Firewhiskey, and waited for the next drink to be placed before him. To his surprise and annoyance, it never came. He frowned and staggered unsteadily to the bartender who had ignored his request. Lunging forward, he gripped the bartender's sleeve and pulled her violently across the counter.

"Malfoy!" the bartender whipped out her wand and fired a stinging hex at him. The Firewhiskey had affected his reflexes, and with a scowl, he released his grasp on her.

"Where'sh … fure…wish…wishkey?" he growled, his words slurred into an almost undecipherable mess.

"Sorry, Mr Malfoy, but The Leaky Cauldron is closing now. Please help yourself out."

Shooting the bartender a dirty glare, Draco Malfoy threw a few galleons on the counter and focused any concentration he had left after his heavy alcohol consumption on his home and Apparated away.

Hannah Abbot watched him Apparate away with a sigh of relief. She was used to Malfoy in her pub, in fact, he frequented daily. Every night was the same. He would come to The Leaky Cauldron at around ten, sit in the same corner drinking Firewhiskey and then be chased out by her at midnight when the bar was closing. Some nights, she would kick him out earlier if he was too drunk. She did not understand why Malfoy drank, but understood that he was a well-paying customer, and it would not benefit her if she was too upset him too much. So every night, she was polite, although wary, when she served the former Hogwarts bully. They never exchanged more words than necessary, and neither did either of them have any desire to. Hannah was just surprised that he never splinched himself when he Apparated.


Draco Malfoy began the day as he had every other since the Battle of Hogwarts a year ago. Each day started in the same way, with an almighty headache, followed by a strong hangover potion. Not only had every morning been the same for a year, but also every day. His daily cycle had yet to experience any disruption, and he was confident that such an outrageous event would never happen. He spent the day sitting behind a desk in a fancy office in Malfoy Industries, and spent the night drinking away his health.

Some close friends or family had asked him about any romantic interests, but he had waved them off with indifference and disinterest. 'Settling down', as his parents had called it, was far from his mind, a concept that was as foreign as it was repelling. As long as his daily routine was intact, he had no need for anything else. Definitely not love, at least.


The battered wooden door to The Leaky Cauldron creaked open, allowing a gust of wind to leak into the pub. Hannah Abbot turned around to check the clock ticking on the wall behind her. Ten o'clock sharp. Malfoy, she assumed, and busied herself with preparing a glass of Firewhiskey without bothering to look. Making her way around the bar to Malfoy's typical corner, she was stunned to see her old friend, Hermione, sitting in the spot where Malfoy usually sat, looking rather down.

"Hannah!" Hermione exclaimed, appearing delighted to see her former classmate and Dumbledore's Army member. "It's been too long. Do you have any Firewhiskey?"

Wordlessly, Hannah placed the glass of Firewhiskey in front of Hermione. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Hermione heaved a heavy sigh, and shook her head, staring at the empty chair opposite her.

Hannah frowned, but let her be. "Well, just call me if you need anything."

She was answered with a grateful smile from the famous war heroine.

It turned out that Hermione ended up calling Hannah many times, each time with the same request.

"Firewhiskey."

Concerned for her friend, Hannah tried at first to ask Hermione if anything was wrong, only to be met with silence and a more determined, "firewhiskey". Hannah was beginning to think that it was really Draco Malfoy polyjuiced as the famous war heroine sitting in her pub.

Her suspicions were proven to be false, however, when another gust of wind swept through The Leaky Cauldron twenty minutes after Hermione's arrival, bringing with it who Hannah had been expecting when the first gust of wind had blown through. Seeing that it was indeed Draco Malfoy, she set about to preparing yet another glass of Firewhiskey for the night.

The first emotion Draco experienced when he realised that there was someone already sitting at his usual table was shock. The outrageous event which would mess up his established routine had happened. After processing this fully, Draco felt anger towards the woman sitting at his table. How dare she? Did she not know that this was his table? Was she really stupid or thick enough to sit there?

Approaching the table, he saw that it was the famous bookworm. Hermione Granger was sitting at his table. Stubbornly he ignored her presence and seated himself opposite her. Really, he reasoned to himself, she could not disrupt his daily routine if he could just ignore her presence. He could still drink away his health all night sitting at his dark hidden corner in Leaky Cauldron. The thought calmed him down, and he called the bartender over. As the Firewhiskey was placed before him, he realised that Granger was staring at him, her eyes showing annoyance and hatred as she glared at the unwanted company she had recently gained.

Calling Hannah over for another Firewhiskey, Hermione spat out, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"I think I have more right to ask you that. This is, after all, my table." Well, there went the idea of ignoring Granger's presence.

Granger snorted at him in response. "Your table? What claim do you have on a table that belongs to The Leaky Cauldron? I don't see why I can't sit at any table I choose to while drinking here. Don't tell me Mummy and Daddy bought little Dwaco his very own table at The Leaky Cauldron with their … no-longer existent fortune," she snickered.

"Shut up, Granger. Even with the Ministry robbing us, we still have more money than Weaselbee and his family have even with the Ministry giving them money. I sit at this table every night. You obviously don't. Where is beloved Weaselbee, anyway? Did he finally tire of the little bushy-haired bookworm? Or did you tire of the blinding red mop and record-breaking stupidity?"

Just then, Hannah placed two drinks onto the table, one for Draco, the other for Hermione.

Draco's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Firewhiskey, huh? Never thought the goody-two-shoes bookworm would be into alcohol."

"Is there anything wrong in indulging in a drink or two, occasionally? It's not like I drink it on a daily basis, which you seem to do."

"Why today then? Was it Weaselbee?" he asked, downing his own Firewhiskey.

Hermione drank hers at a slower pace, being unaccustomed to the burning sensation which Malfoy found so soothing and familiar. "Weaselbee decided today that he no longer wanted to hide his secret affair with some just-graduated-out-of-Hogwarts brainless beauty."

"Oh, did he? So I see he finally saw you for who you really were. A snobbish-"

"No-fun, bushy-haired, prudish, goody-two-shoes bookworm. Yes, I'm aware, Malfoy, Ron told me today. How very polite of him to keep me updated and informed." With that, Hermione swallowed the rest of her Firewhiskey and called for another.

Downing his own, Draco signalled at the bartender to make one for him, too.

When Hermione began speaking again, Draco could tell that the effects of the alcohol were starting to show. Her normally fluent speech had begun to slur and stumble slightly. "Why are you here, Malfoy? Why aren't you in a fancy manor somewhere with Mummy and Daddy sipping on some expensive red wine?"

Draco snorted. "Dear old Mother and Father have gone prancing off to Switzerland, leaving me with the oh-so honourable task of running the family business." Draco didn't really talk on his usual nights of heavy drinking, so he didn't really know how fast the alcohol affected him. All he knew was that, usually, by midnight he only had enough focus to Apparate home. Obviously the Firewhiskey was muddling his brain a bit faster than expected if he was holding a relatively civil conversation with Granger.

"Oh, how hard must it be for you, with Mummy and Daddy gone, and poor little baby having to run the big family business? Do tell me, Malfoy, what do you do during the day? Delegate work out to under payed workers? Or perhaps, sitting in a fancy office with all responsibilities laid on one under payed worker to then delegate to other even more under payed workers?"

Well, Draco really couldn't answer that. She had thrown the dart right at the bulls-eye. Definitely not the official Brightest Witch of the Age for nothing. So instead he said, "I don't see anything amiss with that."

Hermione smirked, "I was right. I always am."

They spent the hour having heated debates and being shown different perspectives. The Firewhiskey had left the two of them forgetting who the other was. Draco forgot that she was the 'snobbish, no-fun, bushy-haired, prudish, goody-two-shoes bookworm', and it seemed that the fact that he was the 'foul, evil, loathsome, cockroach' seemed to escape Hermione's memory. They continued to converse freely and enthusiastically together, talking about everything and anything, from topics as carefree as Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans to the darkest age of Wizarding history, the age which had finally ended a year ago.

By eleven they had both finished countless, and were undoubtedly drunk.

Draco decided that, maybe, just maybe, Granger wasn't so bad after all. He could admit to himself that he was rather impressed that she hadn't passed out yet. Maybe that was why Granger seemed to be held in a bit of a higher regard in his mind. Or maybe, his drunken mind thought, maybe she's actually quite likeable.

A few more drinks after the clock struck eleven saw Draco and Hermione ridiculously drunk and uninhibited, although still acceptably fluent in their speech.

"Evaluate you?"

"Yes, Granger. That's … what I said."

"Alright then. Well, you're selfish, and a Slytherin to heart. You-"

Draco let out a growl of frustration, "No, Granger! Not that! My looks! My looks!"

Hermione giggled, slightly hysterically. "Looks? What looks? Fine then. I'll do just that. You're sickly pale, and your hair is so light that it could pass as white hair on an old man. And your features are so sharp and pointy that I'm scared to look at them for too long… in case they make my eyes bleed … like a knife! A knife! You look like a knife!"

Both drunken Hermione and drunken Draco obviously found this statement hilarious, as they clutched their sides in laughter.

Eventually, midnight came around, and Hannah chased both of them out.


Hermione woke to deafening noise and an excruciating headache.

"Granger! Granger… wake up! I've got hangover potion if you wake up."

Hangover potion… that sounded quite tempting. With a groan, Hermione rolled over.

And fell onto the floor. She frowned at the laughter sounding from her right. This wasn't her flat. And she had definitely not been sleeping on her bed. Come to think of it, that voice didn't belong to her flatmate.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on last night's events.

"Oh." So she had probably Side-Apparated with Malfoy to his flat. Looking up, she saw the sofa which she had been sleeping on earlier until the little incidence of rolling off had occurred.

"Granger?"

"Give me the potion, Malfoy."

Chuckling softly, he complied and waited with Hermione for the potion to ease her pain.

With the pain gone, Hermione had the chance to fully process the situation. Upon realising that she had essentially poured her heart and soul out to her former enemy, and then went on to fully embarrass herself in front of said enemy. Her face began to take on a red tinge from the humiliation of the previous night. She had had fun and loosened up, but at the cost of her dignity and pride. Oh well, nothing much she could do about it now. She was almost afraid to look up at Malfoy, but she had been told countless times by her mum to face her fears head on. And she was a Gryffindor too. Better not shame the house by being scared of facing Draco Malfoy after a late night drink.

Hermione stood up with as much grace as she could muster, and tried not to avert her eyes as she met Malfoy's.

"Malfoy, I'll be going now. Sorry for last night, I drank too much. We can just forget it ever happened."

"It's fine, Granger…" Malfoy paused, as if considering something. He acknowledged that their time together last night had been interesting. Maybe Granger had simply loosened up from the Firewhiskey, or maybe Granger had always been interesting if you got past her slightly bookwormish ways. Perhaps, Draco thought to himself, perhaps he had been alone for so long that the first near-decent company that he had stumbled across seemed to be a hundred times better than it really was. Whether it was because he had enjoyed himself, or he wanted to consistently have that company that he had lacked for so long, he realised that he didn't want last night to only be a one time occurrence.

Hermione observed him closely. His eyebrows appeared to be turned down in thought, his lips twitching as if he was having an internal debate on whether or not he should say what we was thinking. When he spoke again, his words came out haltingly.

"I found last night … interesting. I was wondering, if you wanted to …perhaps we could meet up again sometime?" Malfoy finished with an uncertain little smile in Hermione's direction. Hermione could admit to herself it was rather endearing, and it softened his features too.

"Sure, Malfoy…but without the Firewhiskey. Butterbeer, maybe?"

"I'll try a night without Firewhiskey."

Hermione laughed. "Draco Malfoy sacrificing his Firewhiskey one night, what a miracle!"

"I thought it was a miracle that my daily cycle would ever be broken. But you broke it last night. Who knows, maybe another miracle will happen and we'll actually be friends or something."

Hermione smirked, "Maybe. You always did say that I was impossible, after all."

Malfoy returned the smirk, "And I was right."

THE END


A/N: So there it is! I'm not quite sure where I should've ended it, and I feel like it's too short, and that I haven't developed the characters or emotions properly. But... it's my first one shot, so ... eh. Who knows, maybe I'll extend it in the future. Keep your eyes out for any updates! Please leave a review telling me what you think, it really helps. Thanks! Until next time, then!

~CharmHex01