Harry slammed the empty shot glass down against the sticky bar top and called for another shot of the fire whiskey he had plans of drowning himself in tonight. He was halfway to having blurred memories already, on his fifth drink and counting, and looking to forget about the heart-crushing he had just endured.
A hand reached out to stop him from shooting back his next one and Harry sharply turned to glare down the person who had deigned to do so, fully intending to take his frustrations out on whoever had such nerve. He was stopped short at the sight of platinum blonde hair and piercing, steel grey eyes.
"Don't you think you should slow down a bit there, Potter?"
Harry simply gaped at the man, feeling like a fish out of water when he was only able to respond with a gulping noise. Draco Malfoy was probably one of the last people he had expected to run into tonight, or at any point really, at such a seedy place as the one he had chosen to drink in. The floors were caked with filth from multiple patron's boots, the tables covered in a slew of fluids he didn't even want to contemplate, and the rest of the place was so disgusting it made Harry grimace.
The bartender gave no indication that he intended to clean anything in the place. The dark and musty room with its atmosphere of despair wrought from the flickering candle light and the barely audible, slow music playing was not really Harry's scene either, but he hadn't chosen the place for it's beauty.
He nearly forgot about his drink as he took in the picture of his old school rival sitting there beside him but he soon regained what little composure he had left and sucked the drink back with a twisted face at it's fiery taste.
"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry told the man, turning back away from him to show that he was now being ignored, and waving down the bartender for another. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the trademark smirk grace Malfoy's features, but otherwise the man seemed unperturbed by Harry's remark.
"At least allow me to get the next one then," Malfoy said, scooting his bar stool in closer, the legs scraping the floor audibly. He pulled out his wand and gave the bar top a light rap to clear it of the sticky, liquid refuse. Harry snorted and waved for the bartender again, hoping the man would bring him the whiskey soon. Malfoy's hand also beckoned the man over and when they caught his attention they were each left with two shots of the same that the blonde had ordered.
"And why should I?" He snorted and slung the drink back anyway, coughing as it caught in his throat. Harry was quite unprepared for the sound of Malfoy chuckling, deep and pleasant. Not that Harry would ever admit to the latter part.
Ignoring Malfoy as much as possible, he flagged the bartender down again, asking for three more shots, and was once again surprised by the man next to him when he ordered the exact same then asked for everything to be doubles. He didn't seem the type to drink fire whiskey in the first place let alone double shots of the strong drink.
"You look like you could use it," was Malfoy's short response. It was weird, this interaction, like an odd and hazy dream Harry couldn't wake up from. It was less terse than he had expected it could be. They took the first shot at the same time and Harry glared at him suspiciously. Just because he was nearly three sheets to the wind did not mean he could go and let his guard down. This was Malfoy. He was just wired that way. As Moody had always intoned, 'Constant Vigilance!' And life had drummed that saying into Harry's very existence.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, resting both forearms on the bar and shuffling forward more to lean his weight against the solid wood. His eyes narrowed at the blonde even though he was starting to feel slightly woozy.
"What makes you think I want anything, Potter?" Malfoy said with an arched eyebrow, downing his other shot as if to say that he was there for the alcohol. Harry wasn't stupid and knew this wasn't the case. Even if it had been, for whatever strange reason, there was no way in hell that Malfoy would have deigned to inflict himself with Harry's company to get sloshed.
"Don't bullshit me. I'm not in the mood." He drank both his remaining shots in quick succession, slamming them down so hard that the last one had a crack speared up the side. Malfoy didn't seem startled at all by Harry's violent response.
Malfoy stared down his attitude calmly.
"No one should drink alone, Potter. You looked like you needed an ear..." Malfoy told him, "or someone to rant at," he finished off with a half smirk.
Harry grimaced and nodded before laying his forehead down against his now folded arms. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Malfoy finger the drop of whiskey running down his last shot as he waited for a verbal response from him. Harry just wanted another drink.