Bad Nights

Disclaimer: The words are mine, but the Harry Potter universe and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, et al.
Content Notes: Reference to drunken confessions and hangovers.

"Feeling better?"

"No," Draco said, with more certainty than Penelope had expected. The last time he remembered feeling anything at all, it had been good or at least, better than a too-tight throat, a sour mouth, and an empty stomach that wanted somehow to be emptier. He'd been unhappy when he banged on her door and all but begged her to take him back, to take him to her bed ('just for tonight, please'), but he'd been too drunk then to feel embarrassed for himself or for her. His face burned now and he only lifted his eyes to hers because if his mother could hold her head high while his father sat in Azkaban, then Draco could hold his head up until Penelope closed the door behind him.

The weight of a little—or a lot—of alcohol and his throbbing skull could never compare to the weight Narcissa Malfoy had borne for years after the war, but he doubted her legs had ever been so unsteady or her stomach in the midst of a revolt. He'd never seen his mother drink more than society would accept: she was too clever to risk it, whatever the temptations. His mother had impeccable control and she probably thought Draco did also. He should have with so much to lose and the world so eager to see him lose it; unfortunately, Draco took after his father there as he did in little else except his looks. He lacked the style and the stomach to indulge his excesses on the same scale and for once, it had been a virtue because he'd have had a lot more to apologize for otherwise. As it was, the words stuck in his throat on the first try and the second before he managed, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." She smiled feebly, tired and a little chagrinned. "I learnt a lot about you, Draco."

"I'd rather you didn't know any of it," he replied. He'd been over Penelope for long enough, even if not as long as she'd assumed and he'd get over his latest infatuation in his own time. His visit had done nothing but stain her tiles with beer and his bloodied heart. He'd known from his first drink that his night wouldn't end well, but he hadn't expected to wake up in his ex-girlfriend's flat. If he were honest, he'd expected worse, but even with all the embarrassment he'd suffered over the last couple years, he hadn't known how much he'd hate the pity in her dark eyes or the fact that he couldn't hold his wand nearly steady enough to Obliviate her—the fact that steady limbs wouldn't make a difference after all the time he'd spent here. "I'll make it up to you, Clearwater."

"You don't have to," she assured him. "We've all had bad nights."

Draco clenched his teeth, but made no response except to say, "I insist." He'd imposed on her and unlike Pansy, there was scarcely enough history between them to justify it. He'd dated Penelope less than five months and she'd concluded at the end that they did better as friends. Draco had agreed because it had been easy: he'd come across as so detached that Clearwater had expected him to. She'd been shocked when he turned up on her doorstep, utterly wrecked and he doesn't think Pansy would've been. She'd seen him through worse and at his worst; she'd been prepared to pledge her life to him once, but she'd married a man whose life was far cleaner than his after the war. She hadn't had much of a choice and for the first time since he'd received the wedding invitation three years ago, he was grateful because Pansy wasn't nearly as safe—or as sympathetic—as Penelope.

"In that case," she said.

"Thank you." Very quietly, he added, "I'd appreciate if you didn't mention anything to Weasley. Either Weasley."

"I shan't," she promised and then, with a deep breath, she ventured further than he'd ever thought she would, "I think you should, though. You should say something to Ginny."

"Give me one good reason."

"I'll give you two: first, nothing ventured, nothing gained." Draco scoffed at the tired axiom, but Penelope continued as if she hadn't heard, "And second, she fancies you, too."

"How in the hells can you know that?"

"Percy."

Draco raised an articulate brow.

"He asked if you two were dating. She took a long time and too many words to say no, and the look in her eyes said, 'I wish.' Trust me, Draco."

He was just drunk enough that he did.

Author's Notes: "Bad Nights" came from a recurring joke that Draco fancies Penelope Clearwater in the universe my roleplay partner, Becca, and I have created, so it's pretty much an alternate universe of an alternate universe. I have at least one more chapter planned and possibly more, so I'd appreciate feedback since it's been a while since I've written anything longer than a one-shot. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story.